


Thy Wicked Torment

by this_pendent_world



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Durmstrang, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Hogwarts Sixth Year, POV Original Female Character, Pride and Prejudice References, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Romance, Slow Burn, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Wizarding World (Harry Potter), Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 81,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_pendent_world/pseuds/this_pendent_world
Summary: ***"If I was trying to flirt with you Princess, I wouldn't go about it like him!"With her wrists pinned to his chest, Evie was shielded her from the passing crowd. Pureblood royalty lay forgotten, there was only Fred and her struggle to subdue her breathy, shaking voice."What would you do?"The warmth of him, that intoxicating smoke and sugar scent, had goosebumps spreading down the slim white of her arms and heat trailing up her thighs.Fred was all velvet. "I would be a real gentleman."***[In which a detention, a wicked curse and the arrival of Durmstrang will turn enemies to lovers - if they don't kill each other first.]》Enemies to Lovers》Pride & Prejudice Inspired
Relationships: Fred Weasley/ OC, Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), George Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	1. Prologue: The Secret-Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an end is also a new beginning.

**"I hope she'll be a fool -** **that's** **the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool."**

**F. Scott Fitzgerald, 'The Great Gatsby'**

**♡♡♡**

**S** **ummer, 1989.**

"Don't make me do this." The young girl spluttered and cried, frantically sucking in breath as she backed up against the wall. She slid down the bookcase and tucked her knees into her chest.

"We don't have a choice." Her father frowned down at her; his jaw set rigidly in his stern face. The curtains of his study were tightly drawn, the house-elves sent away. They were alone in the darkened room. "No one can find out. As secondary secret-keeper, you'll never unwittingly divulge what you know. _What I should never have told you_."

This was not the man she knew; this was not her father. Andrew Rothchild, the feared auror, the 'pureblood spy' loomed over her. Shadows passed behind his eyes as he watched her weep.

"I won't tell anyone!" She protested. "I would never tell anyone!"

He was relentless, as cold as ice. "Not Cleo?"

"Never!"

"Not some new friend at Hogwarts? Not by mistake when you're angry - because there have always been rumours Evie, they'll follow you. But you wouldn't tell a soul - not under veritaserum, legilimecy, _cruciatus?_ "

Evie wiped her eyes, shouting up at him. She knew more about dark wizards than any eleven-year-old should. They were her family, her friends, her father? "You're scaring me."

He crouched down. The movement was strange and uneasy in his dark suit and formal cloak. As he reached out a hand to comfort her, she flinched. After all, he was not the person she thought he was. Neither was she. "I'm still your father, Evie."

All the same, he took her new wand from Ollivander's out of his suit pocket and firmly placed it in her small grasp. Evie leant into his embrace and let those steady hands smooth her dark hair.

"You don't need to be scared. Put it out of your mind. _You know the spell_."

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: The prologue takes place the summer before Evie and Cleo's First Year at Hogwarts. However, the rest of the chapters are set during 'The Prisoner of Azkaban' and 'The Goblet of Fire'.


	2. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evie Rothchild is warned once again.

**_"_ ** _**Cashmere, cologne and white sunshine /** _  
_**Red racing cars, sunset and vine /** _  
_**The kids were young and pretty /** _  
_**Where have you been? Where did you go?"** _

_**Old Money, Lana Del Rey** _

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**August 31st, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

Evie Rothchild leant her cheek against the windowpane, the cold condensation between the thin panels of glass broke her out of a daydream. Tucked amidst the velvet boundaries of the window seat in the second living room, reclined in that dark and frosted space, it was easy to feel your eyes glazing over. Though it was only the end of August, the Scottish Borders had grown so chilly that the glass was slick with near frozen water. From where she had pressed her face to the window, a clear porthole had appeared to reveal the overrun garden.

There was nothing much of interest out there, apart from the occasional muggle walking their dog along the country lane. When they glanced up at the house, and a bored Evie glanced from the window down at them, they saw a decaying estate that would soon be forgotten.

While not entirely decrepit, Rothchild Manor had seen better days. She just couldn't really remember them. The garden's trees and shrubbery had grown tangled and wild, reaching up the stone face of the house and tapping their crooked fingers against the glass. The manor itself was dusty and saturated with unused rooms - though gorgeous, filled with matching furniture sets and oriental rugs, everything was covered in a fine layer of dust. And by Merlin, was it chilly.

Even in the second living room, warmth was a luxurious and hard to come by commodity. Evie pulled the woollen blanket up tightly around her shoulders, breathing in the smell of home. She tried not to keep checking the garden. The spot at the edge of the rose bordered path was as deserted as ever. It would remain that way for at least half an hour longer.

Glancing at the clock on the mantlepiece, mere minutes had passed since she had last examined it. The hand with her father's portrait, austere and bright-eyed, remained firmly on 'work'.

Instead of wasting her time, Evie chewed her cheek and tried her hardest to focus on her copy of 'Hogwarts: A History'. Professor Binns had added the tome to the reading list rather late into the summer - unravelling his amended list, she had started to regret her choice of NEWTs. Though... it did give her something to do.

The clock struck six o'clock near minutes after she had finished a particularly fascinating chapter that compared the evolution of Hogwarts to their fellow wizarding schools. As was the way with older textbooks, this comparison largely just consisted of Beauxbaton and Durmstrang.

 _Snap._ Between one blink and the next, between Evie glancing at the page to the window, Andrew Rothchild now stood in the garden admiring the heads of the roses. He cupped a scarlet flower between his fingers - beautiful though untamed. With a fluid movement of his wand, he severed the bleeding flower from its stem and strode into the house.

"Anything exciting happen today?" Evie said, pushing aside the curtains so that she could get a better view of his attempts to control his expressions.

Moving from the doorway, he placed the slim rose in a waiting jug of water. Changing the water with a silent spell, her father replaced the previous withered specimen with a sigh. In doing all of this, he failed to meet Evie's gaze.

"It's not all dark wizard catching - just a lot of paperwork. What are you reading?" His voice was rough, dark grey eyes sparkling within a handsome, though aged, face.

Tossing the cloth-bound edition of the textbook onto one of the embroidered cushions, Evie kicked her legs off the window seat and traced a toe through the dust on the floor. "Just something for school - remember, we ordered it from _Flourish?_ "

"What about the 'television' - haven't you been observing it?" He might have seemed too tired for a lecture, but Andrew Rothchild had never been able to let slip an opportunity to cross-examine.

He gestured at the large box shaped television that sat in the far corner of the room, adorned with its own armchair that faced the large screen. It was as far from his Chesterfield where he read the Prophet as any piece of furniture, or 'confusing muggle technology', could possibly be.

"I did _watch_ the television. There was a muggle programme on about penguins."

There was no need to tell him that she had suffered through half-an-hour of the nature documentary and its cheery English commentator who found everything so utterly fascinating, reminding her of her Care of Magical Creatures Professor, before she turned it off. Like most afternoons, she had trapsed around the house looking for something to do - lingering at Chauntecleer's silver cage before changing her mind. _Not another letter._

It would only disappoint - no, upset her father - to learn that even his strange gift of a muggle television couldn't distract her from the nagging, hollow boredom that she had felt nearly all summer long. Nature documentaries and cheery BBC accents couldn't replace seeing her friends.

"It's cold in here." Her father said awkwardly, turning to the marble fireplace cluttered with photo frames. Pulling back his crisp white sleeves, he shot a spell at the coals. " _Incendio._ "

Evie's brows furrowed at the strange remark. "I forgot about the fireplace."

The decorated structure had once connected the Rothchild family to the Ministry of Magic, and perhaps other family homes. In her early childhood, or what she could remember of it, it had been boarded over and coated in layers of protective magic. Eventually, her father had started to use it again to travel between his home in Scotland and his work in London.

Of course, this had changed in early August. A stunned Evie had snuck into the living room one evening to find him casting charms over their only real connection to the wizarding world. There was no need to ask why.

Shaking his head, her father asked. "Did you pack your trunk?"

"Yeah, its in the hall." Obviously she had packed for Hogwarts.

Her two large trunks were filled to the brim with all of her new books, quills, and potion ingredients - atop it sat her cloak, pinned with a shining Prefect badge. This was Evie's Sixth and first NEWT year after all, she had to be prepared.

In the morning, her father would apparate her to the edge of Hogsmeade - they would take a carriage to the school, likely arriving before any of her fellow students. It had been a horrifying revelation, but like usual, he refused to budge.

Andrew Rothchild no longer trusted the Hogwarts Express to get his daughter safely to school. Glancing at the hearth now filled with flame, Evie wondered if he trusted anything at all.

"There is something I need to talk to you about before you go." Her father stepped swiftly across the living room only to sit gingerly on her unused television armchair, carefully moving and examining the remote.

He turned to face his daughter, hands spread out on his knees and face like stone.

"If it's about the train - I don't mind anymore." Evie didn't want to leave her father on a sour note. Though she was still upset about missing the train. "I guess it gives me time to settle in before Cleo and everyone gets there."

At the sound of her cousin's name, her father nodded his head slightly. "No- its not about the train. I need you to... you know what happened at the Cup."

Evie glanced down at her hands, clutching at the nearest pillow so tightly that her knuckles turned white. They had talked about that night, briefly. "Everyone knows."

"Something is happening out there again Evie - and we don't know what, not yet. We haven't truly managed to catch anyone responsible for what happened, but they're still out there somewhere."

Realising that he had trailed into a morose whisper as he stared at the window's pooling condensation, her father added hastily. "Hogwarts is the safest place you could be- but I still need you to be careful."

"I'm always careful." _She didn't have a choice._

"Stick with your cousins and your friends. That's all I'm asking. If anything were to happen - _they'll_ have no reason to come after you."

Evie's frown deepened. "But they'll come after you."

"No, I don't think so. The Rothchild name still means something, even to Death Eaters. They might try and recruit me." He rolled his eyes, letting his lip curl slightly. "It's never worked before."

"There's always been Death Eaters, dad. They might have stopped calling themselves it but they've always been out there." Evie glanced up from her shaking hands to stare at him, heat burning behind her silver eyes. "I know that what happened at the Cup means something - I'll stick with Cleo. You don't need to worry about me - I'll worry about you."

"I'm always worried about you." He bridged the gap between them, standing from his chair and reaching out a steady hand to smooth her hair. It was a brief and open display of affection, while not entirely unusual, it was rare. "I've done this all before. You shouldn't have to."

"I'll be safe at school." She assured him, knowing how truly scared he was.

Evie couldn't dwell on the possibility of the truth of his words. She could only be thankful that those memories - the years in her childhood spent cooped up in 'hiding' - were as faded as the old curtains that fell around them.

Instead, a small smile broke across her face that was luckily obscured by the tendrils of her now ruffled hair.

"Besides, I want to see...my friends."

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Thank you for reading!
> 
> Due to the way I have divided up the chapters (as they were previously very long), Fred doesn't actually appear in this part. However - he is in the next chapter!


	3. The Snake and the Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fred and Evie are reunited, and Cleo plans world domination.

**"I want money, power and glory /**   
**I want money and all your power, all your glory /**   
**Alleluia, I wanna take you for all that you got."**

**Lana del Rey, 'Money, Power, Glory'**

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**September 1st, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

That last, frantic letter was curled tightly in her fist. Evie sat on the short stone wall that filled the space between the cloisters that wrapped around the quad, dangling her legs down into the grass that had grown long and lazy over the summer months.

From the look of things, she really had been one of the first to arrive at Hogwarts. The Great Hall had been totally deserted as she and her father had passed through the ancient halls, levitating her luggage towards the dungeons.

Her dormitory was just as empty - just five large fourposters and no giggling girls who fought over the wardrobe space and shared summer gossip. _Not yet._ There was barely an imprint of the last half of a decade in her life left in that room - save for the carving on the wall and her familiar bedding. As she touched it, with a soft smile the curtains and coverlet sprung to life in vivid swirls of silver.

After a tense goodbye, Evie had been alone. From inside of her emerald robe, she produced the letter, smoothed it out to read over the short paragraph before heading towards the Quad. She had tried to walk their slowly, to stop that eager thundering in her ears that made her dizzy.

The heart-fluttering wait in the quad seemed to last forever. But it was not Fred Weasley that found her sitting in the cloisters, trying to look as though she was in absent minded, cool girl contemplation.

No, it was not Fred. It was Cleobella Parkinson.

" Evie-baby!" Her cousin chirped as she darted at Evie with open arms and a dark smile across her scarlet lips. Where her younger sisters' features were round and child-like, Cleo was carved of cutting shards of glass. Even her embrace was cold.

"Cleo!" Evie said, crushed in Cleo's tight grasp as she struggled against the folds of her Slytherin scarf. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to stretch my legs before being couped up again, listening to Dumble-bore whine on and on." Rolling her eyes, Cleo's brows furrowed as she grasped a strand of Evie's hair. "What happened to your hair - we don't match anymore! And I'm still not over your dad making you apparate here, its more than paranoid at this point. He's delusional."

Evie winced, removing the strand from Cleo's fingers. "I thought it was time for a change."

Since she had last seen Cleo in late July, before the incident at the Cup, Evie had finally dared to bleach a few strands of her black hair to a pale white. It felt so muggle, so strange and new. Looking in the mirror, she no longer saw a Parkinson replica.

"And what can I say, he's an Auror - aren't they all a bit... you know." Jumping from the wall to land inside of the pillared corridor, Evie glanced around. "Have you been to the dorm?"

"No - the luggage will take forever to get there." Cleo shook her head before delving right into whatever else she had been looking to spout off about. "Lucinda's driving me crazy anyway. She went straight there, Morgana knows why, she better not think we're swapping beds this year. I like my spot, such a good view of the lake. You should have heard her on the train going on and on about that Ravenclaw-"

Stepping around the corner, hair as bright as the afternoon sun, was Fred. From his stumbling halt, he had been sprinting before he caught sight of Cleo and froze. Evie's eyes went straight to him, how could they not, wide with horror.

"Oh, _he'_ s here." Cleo said as she turned her head. "I should have known that's why _you're_ not in the dorm."

Scarlet crept into Evie's pale cheeks. She tried to hide it with a shake of her hair, letting ivory and ebony strands fall in front of her face. Fred continued to walk towards them, his stride sure and brassy as he steeled his resolve. Cleo frowned at him, unimpressed.

 _Great. Just great._ She wanted nothing more than to bang her head against one of the carved stone pillars. The last thing she had wanted was for Cleo and Fred to jump immediately back into their hostilities.

"We were just going to catch up before the feast." Evie said in a soft voice, unwilling to give in to Cleo's accusing eyes. "Unlike with you - I haven't seen him all summer."

The Slytherin considered this for a moment - it wasn't a claim she could dispute. Before the World Cup, the Parkinson's house was one of the few places Evie had been allowed to visit. Her father actually somewhat trusted the Parkinson's. She wasn't sure what he would think of the Weasleys.

Snapping, Cleo turned on her heels. "I'll see you in the Hall then."

As Cleo strode away and Fred approached, the pair passed each other in the corridor. Fred called to her in a teasing voice. "Afternoon, Parkinson."

"Go to hell Weasley." Cleo snapped immediately, avoiding affording him a glance as he grinned at her smugly like he had just won the battle. Her cousin would surely argue back that she would one day win the war.

Evie recoiled at the words, but Fred only chuckled.

"She's in a good mood." He said, tilting his head to look down at Evie. "You think she missed me?"

Evie couldn't hold back the grin that spread across her face, though she stood awkwardly in front of him. For all the stars in the sky, she wanted to reach out and hold that slim but broad hand that he swung at his side. To leap up into his arms and burrow her face against his cloak that smelled like sandalwood and some sort of sugary smoke.

Just like when they had said goodbye.

Instead, she said. "Oh yeah, she's missed you so much. All she does is talk about you."

"Any other Slytherin that's missed me?" She smacked him in the arm before wrapping her arms around his neck, he leant down into her fierce hug. "Any Slytherin with a crazy new hair-do?"

Into his red curls, she whispered. "I've been so worried about you since the Cup. Your letter took forever to get to me and I started to think - Fucking hell, you should just use the muggle-phone next time."

"I would have, I swear. But my dad took it out to the shed, and he's been 'investigating' it." She hadn't wanted to confront him about his slow reply in his letters, not when there was so much else for him to say. "I wrote right away, I really did. Shit, I'm so glad you weren't there for the Cup - Ireland win or not."

There had been a horrible week filled with nail biting and lingering at open windows as she had waited for his letter. As it turned out, he too had been waiting for the postal service to run smoothly again. Without the combing hands of the Ministry. They had secretly planned to meet each other at the Cup - she would get to see this amazing tent he spoke of, to hang out with him and George. The lie to get there would have had to have been spectacular, but worth it.

Yet for once, she was actually glad her father was too paranoid to let her go to big events.

Evie realised reluctantly that she had held him for too long. Letting her hands slip away, she laughed. "Well, we're both here now. And in one piece. But we should probably head to the Feast."

"You're such a Prefect." He dodged her sharply aimed knock to the ribs. "Missed the sorting, but we might just catch the song - and Mad Eye Moody is meant to be coming!"

At this Evie rolled her eyes. Every time Fred and George duetted the Hogwarts's song it was both dreadful and hilarious. From across at the Slytherin table, even before they had truly met, it had been the one time she could actually appreciate the twin's ridiculous antics and how Professor McGonagall hated every single second of it.

She felt his warm hand in hers as they walked in the direction of the entrance hall.

Evie tried not to freeze up, this was normal for them. It didn't mean that much - well, only to her. As they swung arm in arm, Fred asking her a bunch of questions he already knew the answer too about her boring summer. Merlin, she wished she could just sneak across the tables and sit with him.

If only she wasn't a Slytherin, if only he wasn't a Gryffindor - and a Weasley at that. But even in their strange, no longer so new friendship, there were some lines they didn't cross.

"And wait a minute - what do you mean 'crazy hair'!" She smacked him on the arm.

"All I'm saying is - you're looking a bit like Draco's mum."

"Narcissa? You bastard!"

* * *

**♡♡♡**

"Oh, you're fucking kidding me." Cleo hissed, dropping her dessert spoon onto a shimmering golden dish as the room erupted. "Like this place wasn't bad enough!"

Across the four long tables in the Great Hall, the students seemed to process the news in waves.

At first there was cheering, confused first years throwing their hats up to the ceiling decorated with enchanted candles, narrowly missing the flames as they plopped back down onto their heads with a wave of Professor McGonagall's wand. Then came the murmuring. Older students turned to each other, whispering frantically as excitement and confusion muddled together. All looked to the ethereal goblet at the front of the hall.

Yet there was also students, many of them Slytherins, who stared at the Professors and the Headmaster at his podium with calculating eyes. Gears were clicking into place for her companions, a few nudged each other in the ribs.

After all, a Slytherin could be the Hogwarts Champion.

The excitement in the room fizzled as Albus Dumbledore added an addendum to the Ministerial rules surrounding the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Only wizards over the age of seventeen would be permitted to enter their name.

Lucinda Carrows arm shot out across the table, grabbing Cleo by the robe and giving her an excited shake. The brunette spoke in such a sugary, high-pitched tone that it made ears ring as she gushed. "Oh Cleo - you could do it! We can finally put Gryffindor in their place!"

It was lucky for Cleo, or perhaps unlucky given Dumbledore's warnings, that her mother had postponed her entry into Hogwarts for a year. It had been arranged to allow Cleo and Evie to start secondary school at the same time. Her cousin would just pass the age limit.

As she stared into her pumpkin juice, Evie could just see it.

The curled piece of parchment flying out of the midnight flame of the Goblet, spitting and crackling, inscribed with _Cleobella Parkinson_. Green and silver banners would unfurl over their heads as Cleo shoved her way to the front of the room. Basking in the attention, she would preen and wave to Evie. Cleo would love the glory, the fame, but not the competition itself.

 _Merlin,_ Evie coughed up some of the juice, _she doesn't even like watching the quidditch matches._

"As if Luc. Anyway, there is no _we_ here." Tossing her ebony hair behind her shoulder, Cleo's eyes slit. She jutted her chin in the direction of the red and golden table. "Seems someone's been hit pretty bad by the news - did they really think they could _both_ be Hogwarts Champion."

Fred and George Weasley had stood up in their seats, shouting over the heads of newly sorted Gryffindors at the Professors. During Dumbledore's age addendum, she had watched the twins with a keen eye as their excitement turned to outrage. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter yanked the twins back into their seats in a fluid, familiar motion.

Their voices, and their god-awful singing, always carried over to the Slytherin table. Hearing their protests, Cleo continued. "I can't wait to see what happens when the Weasley's try and _Gryffindor_ their way in."

"Come on, whatever they try probably won't work. But you-" She poked Cleo teasingly in the shoulder, hoping to draw her loathsome gaze from Fred and George. "Could _actually_ be our Champion."

There were some tuts and nods of approval from the flock that surrounded Cleo, watching her inner circle carefully. Even the newly made Slytherin's were surveying the gorgeous Prefect with wide eyes as they measured up this future Hogwarts champion.

"I'll think about it." Cleo said to a burst of cheer and claps on the back from those in nearby seats. A few Gryffindors booed.

Her cousins' eyes were distant as Dumbledore added some final remarks, clearly turning over that which Evie already saw. A shining image of herself draped in silver and green, likely standing on a pile of riches while her mother and adoring fans lauded her victory. _More famous than Harry Potter_. "I could certainly do better than _some_ people."

As the Headmaster's speech and the students chatter continued, Evie sat quietly in her seat. The splendid welcome feast on the golden plates had vanished. Now the metal reflected only the stumps of melted candles overhead and Evie's own icy, distant expression. Her mind was far from riches and fame.

There was already so many things that divided the houses of Hogwarts - Quidditch, the House Cup, family loyalties and much worse. Resentment and hostility bubbled beneath the surface of their school, surely this would make it spill over?

Commotion across the table shook Evie from her spiralling. "I can't wait to meet the Durmstrang boys - they're nearly _all_ purebloods! Even my grandmother might approve." Luc had tried once again to catch Cleo's waning interest, cupping her head in her hands as she cooed in a dreamy tone.

A paragraph of _Hogwarts: A History_ started swimming before her eyes. At the time it had seemed trivial, one more slight in a world of injustice.

_Durmstrang Institute is the only remaining wizarding school that has continued to maintain its refusal to accept muggle-born students. While fervently anti-muggle, Beauxbatons have gradually welcomed reform._

Biting her lip, Evie recalled how Cleo's mother had so openly admired during an evening discussion in the summer, that Durmstrang still valued 'legacy'. Just as she had then, Evie felt herself seize up. The Parkinson's weren't the only ones who longed for outdated 'tradition.'

Desperate, seeking some sort of reassurance, Evie caught Fred's attention. He grinned at her, gesturing at the Cup as though they were silently conspiring in the creation of some crazed plan. He likely was, she was sure of it. But Evie still couldn't concentrate on those clear, azure eyes.

A panic that she couldn't explain, couldn't understand, was burning away at her usual icy exterior. She was left shivering, bathed in cold water, nails digging into her palms. The fear wasn't logical, it didn't have to be. It had been drilled into her since childhood.

_More secrets, more purebloods. More lying._

She tried to focus on Fred's smile, his subtle flip off of Dumbledore because he was too young to compete. Evie wanted to talk to him, to explain to someone why she tensed at the thought of the prejudiced Durmstrang students walking among them, encouraging her 'friends' in their usual taunts.

_Mudblood._

But she couldn't.

' _Half-breed bitch.'_

Not with everything going on.

_Mudblood._

Not even if she wanted to.

Something clawed at her throat, ached in her chest, as she followed Fred's envious eyes to the Goblet of Fire.

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Thank you for reading - please consider leaving kutos or commenting! It is always great to hear some feedback!
> 
> Also, I would like to briefly explain that this fic largely situates itself within the book canon, but I am borrowing a few elements from the films (like Fred's appearance & the Goblet of Fire being immediately present at the Welcome Feast, but not the other schools.) However, this doesn't mean that there will not be some canon divergence at some points... but as River Song would say, 'spoilers'.


	4. Purity & Passwords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we are invited into the secret realm of the Slytherin Common Room... and Evie swears that she has not changed that much over the summer!

**_"It's always been just him and me_ **   
**_Together_ **   
**_So I bet all I have on that_ **   
**_And at least in this lifetime_ **   
**_We're sticking together"_ **

\- **Me and My Husband**

* * *

**September 1st, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

"As Prefects, shouldn't _we_ know the password?" Evie said under her breath, smoothing the white cuff of her sleeve that poked out from under her robe.

In the dungeon corridor, Cleo stood with her hands on her slim waist. The short girl examined the slick stone wall with a sharp eye, as though it would simply slide open on her command. It obviously wouldn't, because neither of them knew the password.

In leaving the hall, her cousin berating her stubbornly with all the details of what had happened to her since her feet had left Parkinson Manor to the time that she had finally arrived at Hogwarts. It was a mercy the train ride hadn't been longer. In trying to concentrate on all the different characters of Cleo's wild morning, they had managed to get separated from their fellow Slytherins.

Professor Snape, who should have given them the password, was nowhere to be seen.

"This is absolutely rid- Warrington!" Just as Cleo was about to start shouting in the hopes that someone inside would hear her, the wall slid open to reveal Cassius Warrington.

The older boy reminded Evie of a boulder, large and dim-witted. He spoke in a slow, deep voice. "Cleo?"

Really, it was an embarrassment that they should have been stranded outside of the common room - after all they were Prefects, sixth years and coasting of an 'immutable family legacy'. Evie bit her lip to keep from laughing as Cleo huffed, shoulders shaking with rage, at having to ask Warrington for the password.

"The password, Warrington." Cleo tutted, smoothing down her silver and emerald scarf as she gestured with her wand. "Some of us can't stand around all day."

"S' 'purity'." His expression as blank as ever, Warrington said. "Hey, aren't you two Prefects?"

 _Of course, it is._ Evie sighed, tapping her wand against the wall. "Purity." _It wasn't as bad as some of the ones they had come up with. At least it wasn't a slur this time._

"For once War-war, you're right about something."

As she dragged Evie through the gap in the wall, Cleo placed a hand on Warrington's shoulder and stared up into his glum face. His mouth fell open a bit.

"So if you tell anyone about this - I'll see you in detention. Alright handsome?"

Green light filtered in through the lake-facing stained windows, spilling over the crowd of students that sat on the dark leather couches and huddled around mahogany tables. A fire crackled in the elaborate fireplace, bringing warmth into the underground room that was permanently pierced by a draft. The stone carved walls were decorated with enchanted portraits of ancient students, the emerald tapestries on the walls detailing their exploits.

Having only seen her own common room, Evie could not outright claim it to be the best. But she did have a soft spot for it. It looked exactly like it had for all of her school years, like it doubtlessly would when she was gone. In Slytherin, nothing ever really changed.

At the sight of Cleo and Evie standing on the entrance stairs, some of their usual group gestured for the pair to join them at the fireside. Marcus, Electra and Zoe had taken up the best seats in the common room, basking in the warmth and laughing with each other as envious Slytherin looked on.

"Lectra!" Cleo called to Electra Gaunt who shot up from her place on the rug as Cleo approached, smoothing out her messy hair as though some sort of royalty had just walked into the room. Then again, Cleo certainly thought of herself as Slytherin's monarch. "Marc, Zoe. How have you been angels?"

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night." At the sight of the fan-club, Evie longed for escape. Most of them were in the year above, it was a mark of her status that Cleo ruled over them with an iron fist.

Evie didn't exactly consider them _her_ friends.

Cleo protested. "No, you have to stay!"

They walked across the stone floors, students parting as they pushed through the crowd. Marcus Flint, a dark haired seventh year, patted the empty spot on the Chesterfield by his side. Cleo stared at him blankly before sitting delicately on the armrest, able to survey her group from this makeshift throne.

"Stay, Evie." Zoe Accrington said in her smooth, posh voice, having obviously heard Evie's low remark. "I need to hear about what you've done to your hair. It's so... interesting."

There were a few sniggers from a nearby table. It seemed that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson also had some thoughts on her hair. Their group encircled a board of wizard's chess, creeping as close to the fireside as the older students would allow.

Immediately, Cleo snapped at her younger sister. "Something to say Pansy-poo."

Zoe shifted in her seat, smiling gleefully as she realised that she might not be the one to face Cleo's cutting tongue - or at least, not yet. The fourth years on the other hand, who soon realising the mistake in messing with Evie, and by extension Cleo, shrank back.

"Well, I can't expect you to know anything about style." Cleo fluttered her lashes, voice soft and patronising as she stepped across the lush carpet to pat Pansy on her short bob. "Not when you've got hair like that."

The younger girl started to spit curses at her big sister, who only laughed along with her fireside friends. With the Parkinson sisters, there was a fierce rivalry mixed in with their love. As their mother always touted at every family function, like it was a spell that would keep them all together _. It's blood that binds us._

Following in her footsteps, Evie grinned darkly at Draco Malfoy and his permeant sour face, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

"And Draco, you're really not supposed to use an entire bottle of hair tonic - a little goes a long way." Evie remarked on his slick hair, before turning her attention to Zoe. She didn't always need Cleo to stick up for her. Sometimes, it felt good to knock them down a few pegs by herself. "And I like my hair. Does anyone have anything else to say?"

Draco Malfoy tried to get up from his chair but his cronies dragged him back.

Pansy shook her head and scowled at the devious older girls, aware of the lingering threat that she could be in for a detention till Christmas. Or even worse, Cleo might put her on the hit list. Pansy only got away with so much because she was Cleo's sister. Just as Evie was her cousin.

"Great." Evie hastened. "So I'll be off then. I'd say it was good to see you, but it wasn't."

There were a few weak calls of protest as Evie strode across the room to reach the adjoining corridors, hidden by a thick curtain.

As she passed through it, Evie could hear Cleo's resigned words to the crowd. "Just let her go."

Her dorm room was at the very end of the girl's corridor, decorated by smiling portraits of the famous wives of differing Slytherin. It was a rather outdated display, but no one had bothered to change it. Each of the woman were dressed in fine silks, hair adorned with jewels as they watched each passing girl. Unlike in previous years, Evie did not receive their familiar nod of approval.

She reached a hand up to her hair. "It's not that big a deal!"

Evie and Cleo had been near identical in their first few years at Hogwarts. Like all of the Parkinson line, they shared in jet black hair that fell like sheets of velvet around their shoulders, skin pale as cream and cheekbones sharper than dragon's teeth. They had revelled in it of course, Evie used it like a safety blanket, that some unsuspecting students thought them sisters.

"You _are_ my sister." Cleo always said to Evie, even when she had remained notably short as Evie grew taller. "Even if you dress like a goth now."

In some small fit of rebellion, Evie preferred to wear dark variations of the uniform, stomping around in some clumpy Docs. She adorned her face with bold eyeliner, drew her lips in crimson. The changes had been minuscule, building to two girls that were similar - but no longer so identical. A Rothchild and a Parkinson. Evie was Cleo's dark shadow.

"My Black Swan!"

Arabella had pushed open the door to the dormitory and embraced the distracted Evie in a tight hug. Her wild curls tumbling over Evie's shoulder and brushing softly against her cheek. She pulled her into the dormitory before Evie could process what was happening.

It seemed this had been where all of her true friends were hiding.

Inside the dormitory, her three other best mates stood around their beds. Their trunks were up on the bedding as their clothes and books were tossed around the spacious room. Evie smiled at the girls who immediately started to point at and admire her hair. Her mind was soon far from Cleo's earlier dismissal, Zoe's comments and the portrait's cold glances.

Though they had known each other for half a decade now, the sight of Ara Rosier and Safiya Royu was always captivating. If not for Cleo, there would have been no competition to the most beautiful girls in all of Slytherin, or all of Hogwarts for that matter.

Like a lion, Ara had skin of molten gold with curls of deep, rich brown that framed her striking face and sharp jaw. She moved as though constantly in flight, filled with an energy that kept her smiling so eagerly that white teeth flashes, hair dancing around her head.

"I can't believe we didn't see you on the train!"

She led go of her tight hold on Evie's wrist, who had stood unmoving on the short stone steps that led down into the dormitory. Instead, she pushed her shoulder as though angry, but Ara's warm voice always betrayed her.

"Yeah, it's a long story." Evie said lamely, glancing around the dormitory.

Everything was the same - walls of wooden and stone panelling, delicately carved with vines that seemed to spread out from their arching sea-facing window. With the emerald curtains pulled back, the five fourposters were illuminated with the glow of the lake. A single wall bore the carvings of every Slytherin girl that had ever lived there – the familiar names a constant reminder of their heritage.

Stepping forward from her bed, her movements delicate, Safiya nodded to Evie. "A story we want to hear, no doubt."

They truly were a dazzling pair. Safiya's every movement, her every word, was as refined as her delicate composition and dark complexion. As slim as a wisp, with strong-cheekbones and arching brows, Safiya might have been a fairy. Yet, as time with the girl had soon illuminated, she far better fit the archetype of a ballerina - a beautiful form of dance that muggles had invented, which led Safiya to keep her luxurious hair in a high bun threaded with pearl pins.

She extended a slim hand to Evie, touching her wrist and spoke with her now faint accent. "It's nice to see you again, Black Swan."

The nickname had always been a strange one. In third year, Safiya, upon taking in the sight of the more gothic Evie and a gorgeous Cleo dressed in a white jumper, had remarked softly to the pair. "A Black Swan, a White Swan."

Without Safiya's unique background in ballet, she had always wondered if it was some sort of slight. After all, did the Black Swan not impersonate the White Swan? It would be just like the quiet and refined Safiya to pronounce her eerie, accurate judgment on the cousins.

Sadly, whatever she meant by it, the nicknames had stuck.

Unsure of how to react to Safiya's rare display of affection for anyone but Ara, Evie let out a small, sharp, laugh. "Merlin, you miss one train journey, and everyone acts like you've missed a term."

"It was more than a train journey - I didn't see you at the feast. What do you think then, about the Tournament?" Ara prodded as she moved to her bed, adorned with patterns of amber and ruby, to pry open her trunk and start hastily throwing more clothes on her bed.

"Certainly... going to make things a bit more... exciting."

"Oh yes, I was thinking the same thing. Did you know that there's normally a ball held during the tournament and the champions get to be the first to dance with their dates - isn't that romantic. We might even need dancing lessons - oh my Morgana, and then we would have to get partners. Who do you think you-"

It was Luc who had spoken, similarly removing clothes from her trunk.

For whatever reason, the smiling girl wasn't doing her usual - that is, hanging around Cleo and her older friends like a small, desperate puppy. Instead, she was laying out some gorgeous new clothes on her pink bed. The brunette must have had the power of foresight, contrary to her grades in divination, for she had packed dozens of fluffy taffeta dresses and fashionable skirts.

Evie frowned. "You planning at least ten different balls, Luc?"

Her friend smiled, her button nose crinkling. As Luc was about to reply, Safiya called in her drawn, commanding voice. "A silly institution. Durmstrang, Beauxbatons - what of Uagadou, or Mahoutokoro."

Blowing air in her cheeks, Luc considered this for a moment. "I mean I think it has traditionally just been- "

"And who doesn't love tradition. Like my four besties - back here again." Climbing down from the short stone steps that led down into their dungeon dormitory, Cleo lingered on the final one as her eyes took in the sight of her roommates, all standing to attention by their beds.

Of course, Cleo's bed was in the centre of the room with the best view of the swirling waters of the lake. It was perfectly positioned to let her hop out of the covers and dart into the adorning common room, or as she most often did, command the conversation in their dormitory. For really, it was her room.

"Ara, baby." Cleo strode over to the two friends they had not sat with at the dinner table and had presumably escaped her clutches in the train compartments. She grabbed the girl by the top of her arms and hugged her.

Ara fidgeted, eyes wide. "Cleo - good to see you."

"And Safy, darling." Turning to the ballerina reclined on the furthest edge of the room, she blew her a kiss.

To which Safiya, notably repelled by the pet name, blinked and replied. "Cleobella - its been a long time."

"Too long." Moving to her bed, Cleo sat down on the plush mattress with a smile, tipping back so that her long dark hair spread out across the coverlet like tendrils. From the brush of her hand against the bed, the covers and draping's were transformed - a reflection of their owner - the white sheets turned to stripes of proud Slytherin green.

"Ugh, aren't you just so excited to finally see some new faces!" Cleo kicked her legs into the air, letting out a little giggle. Unlike when she was with the seventh years, this Cleo acted her age. "I mean, come on. It's so difficult to meet a nice guy around here when half of them are your cousins."

Sitting on the edge of her bed, thankful that she had unpacked before meeting Fred, Evie too laughed ruefully. None of them would have trouble finding dates if they were allowed to go for anyone that wasn't a pure-blood, and preferably a Slytherin.

Ara laughed. "Planning Durmstrang domination then Cleo?"

"The second they're off that ship - they're mine." Cleo joked and the entire room erupted with laughter.

After all, there was nothing funnier than imagining Cleo thinking that she would have to throw herself at a bunch of handsome pure-blood boys. They flocked to her like flies.

Glancing at the darkened panels of glass, reminiscent of her beloved boxed window seat at home, Evie watched the swirling waters. Amber and shimmering, a long tail flickered in the distant fathoms. Evie felt the weight of the letter still tucked tightly in her sleeve.

She tried not to think how even though they were in the same building now, separated by moving staircases and stone turrets, Fred Weasley might have been further from her reach than ever before.

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**September 2nd, 1994. [6th Year.]**

He was waiting for her by the Black Lake, skipping stones with an elegant hand. The smooth peddles darted across the surface before they were swallowed by the abyss, inky and forever. In the afternoon sunlight, Fred's hair was more than red. There was gold, strands of bronze, tangled up in its mess.

"You better hope the mer-people don't throw them back." Evie smiled, scrunching her nose as she plucked a slick pebble from the edge of the lake and weighed it in her hand. She shot it across the water. It plummeted.

A night had passed since their arrival at Hogwarts. She hadn't yet managed to find time to sneak out from under Cleo's watchful eye to properly catch up with Fred and discuss the Tournament. In the afternoon, Evie had been hurrying down to Advanced Potions when he had caught her in the corridor. The briefest brush of his hand and a soft whisper. _After class. Lake._

Luc, who had been at her side, had shoved him away. "Get out of here Weasley." Evie had glided down the rest of the corridor in a dizzy daydream, wishing that Potions could be over already, though it was her favourite class.

"Mer-people, Princess." Fred teased, turning to grin at her. "Really."

Merlin, she didn't want to admit to herself how much she had missed him. The faint blush under the milky skin of his cheek, the soft lines of his lips, the curl of his hair. He had haunted her all summer, his absence a lingering ghost.

"Yeah, Mer-people." Instead of reaching down for another stone, she quickly grabbed his. "You were in that same History class. They're out there, and they don't like it when wizards throw stones."

Fred tried to take the pebble back, smiling at her as his hand shot out to grab it. His innocent look couldn't fool her, she tensed her fingers around the stone and tried to shake out from his arms. She failed and he reclaimed the rock.

For a moment, he looked down into her eyes as she glanced up at him through her lashes. His breath was warm on her cheek, so tantalisingly different to the cold breeze of the loch. It was difficult to breathe properly. _There are freckles on his neck like constellations._

Unwilling to let the silence between them linger, he asked. "Excited for the other schools getting here?"

"Nice try." With one hand on her arm, the other reaching for the stone, she ducked out of his embrace. "And no, not really. You're not going to do something stupid when they get here and entry opens, are you?"'

There was no point in telling him about her paranoia, not when she couldn't explain why she felt like there was a hummingbird breaking through her ribs, thumping and fighting, at the thought of the pressure of more purebloods in her school. Evie drew her cloak tightly across herself, shivering from the misty Highland autumn.

Fred grinned. "Well, we might have something planned."

"They've got that Goblet covered in defensive magic, I'm almost sure of it. You'd have about as much luck sneaking into Dumbledore's office, Freddie."

A strand of hair must have fallen in front of her face. He tucked it behind her ear. " _Freddie_ \- I've missed that."

Evie took a careful step back from him, turning her eyes to the lake. "I'm being serious, whatever you're thinking, it's not a good idea. You don't really want to end up in the Tournament - it's dangerous."

He bolted forward, taking the stone and throwing it out onto the water. Fred's voice was teasing. "You always say stuff's dangerous, but then you always agree to help _Evie_."

"Maybe you idiots have worn off on me." The words were sharp, far too harsh. They didn't really argue properly anymore, not like they used to. He turned to her, distracted as the rock sunk, his gaze just curious and open. She added softly, hoping it would voice the fear she felt for him. " _Freddie_."

Evie bit her lip, fixing her eyes on a distant jagged island in the centre of the lake. He watched her carefully, but she was elsewhere for a moment.

It was difficult to remember that there had been a time when the thought of Fred Weasley didn't consume her. A time when she wouldn't have dared to call him Freddie, because she couldn't even tell the twins apart. And like most Slytherin, she hadn't even cared to try.

It felt like an eternity ago.

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: As a certain Malfoy once said in 'A Very Potter Sequel', "we're going back" with the next chapter. (By that I mean we are heading to 1993, in which Evie and Fred truly 'met.')


	5. Princess of Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evie Rothchild and Fred Weasley truly 'meet'.

" **I dont** **exactly** **know what** **I** **mean by that, but** **I** **mean it."**

**J. D. Salinger, 'The Cather in the Rye'**

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**Early September, 1993. [Fifth Year]**

"Would you care to explain your actions this afternoon, Miss Rothchild."

To Evie, Severus Snape did not actually seem all that interested in the particulars that had gone into him being forced to give her detention. He remained firmly engrossed in carefully peeling a mandrake root. Sweeping up the shavings, he poured them into the pewter cauldron that was bubbling on his desk.

It was starting to feel like she spent far too much time in the damp and drafty potions classroom. Evie tipped her head up to the ceiling, admiring the carvings that bored students had made with spells over the centuries. There was a particularly good one of a howling wolf above Snape's desk.

"Miss Rothchild." Snape hissed, still refusing to glance up from his work as he spoke. "Your punishment could perhaps be... lessoned - if you were more forthcoming."

Carefully, Evie drew the sleeve of her dark cloak down over her bloody knuckles. "Rowle is just a hexable person."

"I should say that of all the idiotic students in my class, you might actually show some promise. Unlike Miss Rosier, and certainly Miss Carrow." Professor Snape placed the curved knife, reflective of the flickering candles that lined the slick stone walls, on the crowded wooden expanse of his desk. With his sudden pause, he reached a crooked finger out to flick through a leather-bound journal penned in his own scratchy hand. " -But I don't care for flattery."

He looked up at her with oil-slick eyes, shallow face framed by a greasy mop. "I want to know why that fool is currently in the hospital wing and refuses to tell Madame Pomfrey _exactly_ what's wrong with him."

_It's a broken nose. Coward._

Of course, Maximillian Rowle would be too afraid to say what had really happened.

With the terrified First-Year scampering down the hall, tumbling over himself to get away, the pair had been alone in the corridor. Evie found herself staring down at him as he slumped against the wall, her hand aching and head thumping. Rowle had started screaming bloody murder, stirring up old gossip about her family. ' _Half-breed bitch_ _.'_

For a moment, Evie considered telling Snape the truth. After all, while he was a complete git, he was her Head of House... and he taught her favourite subject. There was no need to cause Professor Snape to hold some sort of grudge against her. He was more than a git to those he hated.

_But she just... couldn't._

"I was having a bad day, Professor." She pinched a few strands of the mandrake between her fingers, sprinkling them into the potion. It had been looking a bit gauzy. "It won't happen again."

Two weeks of detention with Snape couldn't be that bad. She could survive it.

Professor Snape slammed down the cover of his journal, eyes slit in his gaunt face at her intrusion. The potion had turned a dark brown as it simmered - the perfect hue. He merely pinched the bridge of his nose. This was the same act she had seen him perform many a time - just before he erupted with rage at some unsuspecting student...

The door to the potion's classroom had creaked open. Professor Snape glared up at the interlopers only for his lip to curl. "Weasleys - finally decided to join us."

_Oh no._ Evie tried not to groan inwardly as she turned to follow Snape's delighted, burning eyes. _Not them._

The Weasley twins stood by the open door, slim and tall as they leant on either side of the doorframe with teasing smiles plastered to their freckled faces. They were dressed in the familiar Hogwarts robes, with their ties looped loosely around their necks and flaming red hair worn in opposing partings.

"It's a pleasure, Professor." They chimed in unison, voices dripping with sarcasm as potent as Snape's potion.

Evie met their gaze, each twin wrinkled their nose at the sight of her. To say that Evie and her friends had a frosty relationship with the Weasleys was an understatement. Though she had rarely directly spoken to the Gryffindors, it was obvious from their sharp posturing that they saw her as just an extension of Cleo.

In turn, she rolled her eyes at the twins. The last thing she needed was more time in her life that was disrupted by the Weasley's loud pranks, obnoxious jokes and quippy little remarks. They always seemed to find themselves so hilarious - as did the rest of Gryffindor.

The only mercy she could find in the situation was that their co-conspirator, Lee Jordan, was nowhere to be seen.

"What do you want us to do this time, Professor?" One of them smirked, gesturing around the dungeon room at the desks crammed with potion ingredients, textbooks and various half-charred cauldron models. "Catch all the spiders? Mop the floors?"

"Dust the jars? Polish your impressive shoe collection - love those by the way, much pointer than last year's."

He pointed a lanky finger at the twin that had spoken last, eyes shining as their face crumbled. " _You_ \- will be organising the ingredients in the supply cupboard. _Alphabetically_. And I will be checking your work."

There was always a kicker with Snape, nothing was ever simple.

He then gestured at the other one that had remarked on the spider population. "And _you_ \- I heard that Professor Sprout was looking for someone to help her clean the greenhouse roofs. Wouldn't it be a shame if you were to fall before the next quidditch match. _Follow me_."

Snape moved from behind his desk, extinguishing the cauldron flame with the flick of his wand. He slipped across the classroom, drawing up the edge of his cloak as he moved. The Potions Master grabbed one of the twins by the shoulder and hauled him through the door.

As they were parted, they tilted their heads and seemed to speak to each other without moving their lips. One twin shook their head, the other merely shrugged as he disappeared around the corner.

Snape shouted from down the dungeon corridor, the sound echoing in the stone hall and reaching the horrified Evie. "You know where the supply cupboard is - get to work."

_Shit_.

"This is going to be fun." The remaining twin turned to Evie, pointing a thumb in the direction of the doorway that would lead to the walk-in supply cupboard, a few paces from the classroom.

Evie didn't reply to this. After four years of sharing class with the Gryffindors, she knew just how troublesome the Weasley twins could be. Snape might have thought he was punishing them through separation, but spending time with just one of them seemed more like an extra punishment for Evie.

_I wish I had told him that I punched Rowle._

Coldly, she said under her breath, hoping the Gryffindor would catch her distain for him and his stupid grin. "It's going to be a long evening."

* * *

**♡♡♡**

"This is mugwort ivy." Glancing at the messily scrawled label, Evie shook her head. While the shelves were filled with identical bottles coated in years' worth of dust, making their names near impossible to decipher, the distilled daisy-like heads of the plant were distinctive.

Or they should have been to someone excelling in OWL level Potions, like Evie. Only one of the twins still took the subject with her - and from the way the Gryffindor had been skulking about the crate of ingredient vials, tossing them onto shelves and trying to peak into their glassy tubes, Evie suspected he wasn't that twin.

_Which twin did she take potions with anyway?_ Her desk mate Luc always called whichever one it was 'ginger' aloud, her favourite cutting insult, and something much worse under her breath.

All of this left Evie without a name to put to the Gryffindor she was suddenly snapping at, shaking the vail of pure white flower-heads. " _So why did you put in in W_?"

The potions storage cupboard was far larger than similar spaces provided for other classrooms, with room enough for two people to stand comfortably on either side of the enclosed space, ignoring the others presence. However, due to the precarious shape of the room, long and thin, it made it rather difficult to get past each other - for that reason, the only words that had been spoken since they arrived in the cupboard half an hour earlier had been. "I'm taking the first half of the alphabet Gryffindor - you can do the rest. Stay on your side."

Well, that had been all Evie had intended to say until she had started to check up on the twin's work.

"You're taking this pretty seriously." The twin, whichever he was, was in the process of shaking a large bottle of purplish eyes encased in a substance like muggle gelatine. _Eel Eye_. They blinked as he tapped the glass. "He probably won't even check."

Striding over to him and snatching the jar from his grip - after all, it was her half of the alphabet, Evie retorted. "Are you kidding its _Snape_ \- give me those!"

Weasley kept his hands firmly on the jar, glaring at Evie before he glanced back to the crate still filled with what would surely be hours' worth of work. Taking a breath and buffing out his cheeks, sharp contemplation firing behind his light eyes, he sighed. "You're right - he's such a git."

It was the first time in her life that Evie could remember any Gryffindor so easily agreeing with her. She grinned at him, aware that he was closer than ever before. The satisfaction of it didn't last long as he shoved the jar into her grasp, muttering that she could 'keep the eyeballs then'.

They returned to their task for a moment - Evie placing the eel eyes back in their section before she attended to the mugwort, wondering which of its many names Snape expected it to be sorted by. Then, from the other side of the cupboard, a smirking voice called. "How long do you think he can keep us here then?"

Glancing at the crates and then at his lack of sorting, Evie tried to keep her face expressionless. It seemed she had accidently started a conversation - one that she really ought to end. That was what Cleo or Luc would do. All the same, she asked back. "When do you think McGonagall would start looking for you?"

Clearly not expecting some wry reply, Weasley turned around and let out a laugh. He leant back against the wooden shelves, running a hand threw his ginger hair as his elbow mingled among bottled essence of leech and occamy eggs. "McGoogs? She'd thank Merlin I was gone." Rolling his tongue, he added. "Gryffindor might get to keep its points for once."

"Worse comes to worse Weasley, and with a couple drops of this-" She shook the vail of mugwort ivy, a dark smile playing across her lips. "And you're straight into the hospital wing. Think of it as a last resort. Also- not something you would want to _mix up._ "

Instead of replying to this obvious dig, a bit of Cleo slipping into her speech, the twin moved to her side and glanced down into the bottle. It looked harmless enough, pellucid and shimmering with a few leaves floating beneath the metal stopper. Evie could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. "What does it do exactly?"

He glanced down at her with wide, meddlesome eyes as she smoothly recalled from her textbook. _Definitely not the twin from Potions then._

" _Hedera Artmisia_ \- or distilled mugwort ivy - can have a variety of affects. Depending on the potency, it can cover a wizard in large, red boils from head to toe. Disgusting and near untraceable- making it a rare but favoured poison. If smoked, the thujone in the leaves can cause hallucinogenic effects."

Realising that her passion for Potions and excellent recall might have just shown her up in front of a Gryffindor, she added with a roll of her eyes. "Which is why so many pureblood elites used to get off their heads smoking it - but its pretty hard to find now. Too much of this stuff... even Madame Pomphrey couldn't save you."

He quirked his lip. "So we probably don't risk it."

_We?_ "Any other day - I would love to see you go suddenly off your head and erupt in boils - but we've got work to do...though."

Excitement in his eyes, he blurted out. "What? Thinking we should try and slip it into Snape's pumpkin juice."

"No, I wasn't thinking _that_." Evie snapped back. "I was thinking about a spell - it might help us get through this faster. Sometimes I use it in the library at home."

And in her private pantry - a dusty old room filled with vails and burnt cauldrons, which Evie used to practise her brewing when she was home alone and bored. _Which was a lot_. Not that Weasley needed to hear about that.

"The library at home." He crooned back, looking ready to double over laughing and likely trying to remember to tell his twin what she had said. The following day, she would hear all about it from the other Gryffindors. "What a Slytherin thing to say."

"Oh shut up." She hissed, cheeks reddening. "Do you want out of here or not?"

From his lack of a reply, suddenly that stubborn streak so associated with his House was back in full, Evie decided to pull out her wand from the folds of her robe. " _Disponere_ \- eh, _disponere authoribus_."

The bottles of various sizes, shapes and colours flew from the wooden crate in the centre of the storage cupboard and up into the air. They floated there for a moment - clearly familiarising themselves with the sorting system - before moving to the creaking and crowded shelves, settling in amidst the dust.

"Shit." Weasley shook his head like he was impressed, checking the nearest newly-arranged vail. "Looks pretty much in order to me... but if Snape finds out you used a charm to get out of doing his stupid task-"

"Who's going to tell him?" Evie threatened, wand still tightly in her hand.

The twin held up open palms, shrugging his lanky shoulders. It seemed they could agree on one thing - neither of them wanted to spend the rest of their night, and those bleary morning hours, together in the Potion's cupboard. "I won't if you won't."

As there eyes met and this silent pact was made, Evie imagined that they would go back to ignoring each other. He had other ideas, grinning mischievously as he asked. "So do you want to get out of here?"

"Its S-n-a-p-e." Evie said very slowly, hoping that she might get it through his thick head. Perhaps years' worth of getting into trouble had made him forget why so many in the Potion Masters own House feared the sight of him. "What kind of idiot are you - he's going to check in on us."

"Yes." Weasley said equally slowly, drawing a line with a slim finger like he was somehow connecting dots she was too sensible to see. "And by that time, we will be gone and the jars will be all in order. So what's your problem?"

Evie wanted to tell him that _he_ was her problem.

"Maybe that would work with McGonagall - but this is, once again, Snape. If he comes in here and finds that we've somehow left early, even if the charm put things in order, he would still search the whole castle and drag us back by our ears. _Then he'd probably mess things up just so we can put them back in order - by hand - and give us detention for good measure_."

As the Weasley twin didn't even blink at this, she hastened. "We should wait till he comes back, which will probably be soon, and look like we're just finishing up. At least it won't be too late at night-"

"All of that-" He interrupted. "Is a risk I'm willing to take. I'm not kicking about your grotty dungeons for any longer than I have to - some of us, Princess, have places to be. You don't have to come with me."

Ignoring his use of the word 'princess', a term that Evie mentally reserved for Cleo whenever she was having one of her temper tantrums, she shook her head. "If he catches just me here - then he's going to get mad at _me_ for letting _you_ sneak off."

"That is also a risk I'm willing to- aw, _you hit hard_!" Weasley rubbed his arm and hissed. "Wonder you're not a beater."

"Maybe they knew I'd spent the whole game trying to kick your arse."

Evie was actually terrible at quidditch, though she did enjoy cheering for her House. However, the mental image of herself chasing Fred and George through the air with a beaters bat did bring a smile to her face.

As if resigning himself to fate, the Gryffindor sighed and said to the Slytherin. "I guess you better come with me then. There's a spot down the lake I doubt that greaseball will be able to find."

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,
> 
> As of today (01/01/2021) I have re-organised the chapters of 'We Were Young and Pretty.' If you are suddenly wondering why you are not on the chapter you last read - this is the reason.
> 
> In case you are not entirely caught up on the fic, I have created this little reference that explains the correspondence between the previous format (which was too long and dragged a bit) and the new chapters:
> 
> New Format .vs. Old Format 
> 
> Chapter One: 'Legacy' = Chapter One: Legacy - Part 1
> 
> Chapter Two: 'The Snake and the Lion' = Chapter One: Legacy - Part 2 & 3
> 
> Chapter Three: 'Purity & Passwords' = Chapter Two: Purity - Part 1 & 2
> 
> Chapter Four: 'Princess of Poison' = Chapter Three: Traitor - Part 1 & 2
> 
> Chapter Five: 'Blood Traitor' = Chapter Three: Traitor - Part 3


	6. Fred Weasley, Blood Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Gryffindor and a Slytherin briefly consider that they might not be natural enemies after all.

**"Angry, and half** **in** **love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away."**

**F. Scott Fitzgerald, 'The Great Gatsby'**

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**Early September. 1993 [Fifth Year]**

Standing on the stone-covered shore of the Black Lake, her back to the swarming mass of darkened leaves and strange growling, twinkling cries that made up the Forbidden Forest, Evie set her sights firmly on the small island atop the rippling body of water - green and mossy, a single tree shivered in the wind. _I should have worn a thicker jumper. No, I shouldn't be out here at all._

Unable to take the silence, Weasley muttered under his breath. "If we're going to stand here ignoring each other, we should have just stayed in Snape's cupboard."

From their arrival at the loch some minutes earlier, he had taken up two differing occupations. The Gryffindor switched between shivering beneath his ruby-edged robes, arms firmly crossed over his chest and jaw clenched - and tossing the occasional pebble across the surface of the water, with each splash a mermaid surely snapped her sharp teeth, unseen in that murky abyss.

"This was your idea!" Evie snapped back. She had no interest in throwing wet rocks when she couldn't feel her fingertips. "I was fine just doing the detention!"

"Because you were having _so_ much fun." He turned to her, tossing the final pebble in his tight fist across the Black Lake. "How did you end up in detention anyway - what happened to being Snape's golden girl?"

Perhaps she truly _was_ Snape's golden girl - after all, the Potion Master hated almost all of his students, but he never seemed to mind Evie. It might have been because she liked to work in silence, cutting up her ingredients carefully and refusing to ask for his assistance. All the same, she didn't like Weasley's tone.

"I just _like_ potions - _unlike some people_ \- and I care about doing well in my OWLS. So what if that means putting up with Snape." In her head, that had sounded a lot better than what came out of her mouth. Weasley merely frowned at her, squinting like he couldn't imagine anyone caring about OWLs level potions. _Not the twin from class then_. "Should I even ask why you're in detention - blow up another toilet?"

"I think you'll find that you can smell why we are in detention if you stand in any lower corridor and let that sweet dungeon draft hit you." A mischievous grin split his handsome face. "Georgie-boy left a surprise waiting for you _lovely_ Slytherin - a welcome back present."

Instinctively she went to smack him on the arm again, but he ducked out of the way. "You scabby little git - you can smell that dungbomb from the common room!"

Weasley continued to smirk as he once again dodged her left booted-foot, which had aimed directly for his ankles. For whatever reason, he seemed to find her attempts to fight like a muggle, rather than using her wand, rather hilarious. "What can I say- we're just back, schools on high-alert, creative pranks are on the backburner - you can thank Sirius Black, bet you two are related somewhere down the line, got the same crazy stare."

"Oh shut up- _wait_... if George was the one that let off the dungbomb, why are you both in detention?"

The twins enjoyed tricking those around them - talking about themselves in the third-person in the hope unsuspecting students and teachers might reveal their inobservant nature and call them by the wrong name. It was possible that this was George Weasley and he had simply been explaining his own crimes. But all the same, Evie wondered...

"Because-" Weasley answered as though it was obvious. "Snape can't tell us apart. Only one with that spooky gift is McGoogs - and maybe Flitwick - but we've started to think he's probably a really good guess or something."

As he spoke, Evie could suddenly see two dark-haired girls from the corner of her eye. To most people, those who didn't pay enough attention, they had been near identical as well. _Cleo or Evie. Evie or Cleo_. It only became starkly apparent which was which after Cleo opened her mouth. It had been funny in childhood... but to live like that forever.

Evie summarised her thoughts. "That's pretty shit."

"I guess- didn't have much to do this fine afternoon." Fred had turned from her, hands in the pockets of his cloak as he stared of at the loch. Then, all of a sudden, like a lawyer playing his final hand in court, he snapped back around. _Got you._ "We've had classes together for five years - but you can't tell us apart, can you? How do you know I'm _not_ George?"

_How did she know?_

"We've had classes together for five years and I don't think we've ever said more than a few real sentences to each other - without insults, I mean. Do you even know who I am?" It was a ridiculous bluff, something to shield herself from that creeping suspicion. _Why was she suddenly so sure that he wasn't George Weasley?_

"Of course I do. You're Evangeline Parkinson Rothchild." Imitating Professor Snape's drawling tone that he used when calling the register, Fred rolled his eyes and sighed. A weight upon his shoulders, bogging down whatever mental note he had of her. "Cleo's cousin."

"Evie. No one calls me Evangeline."

_After all, that name belonged to Evangeline Parkinson, Cleo's mother._

"And I'm Fred."

Teasingly, Evie frowned and put her hands on her hip. "For all I know, you could be lying?"

He stepped closer, grinning down at her. Inside the darkened recess of her chest, beneath the trimmings of a perfect Slytherin, Evie's heart beat faster. _Fred. Definitely. Fred._ "For all I know, _you_ could be lying?"

His voice smoother than butter-beer. "And why would I do that, Princess?"

"It's not _Princess_ , either." She corrected. "And I might not know your name, but I know that you live for trouble."

"Oh no, I think you've mistaken me for my brother, Percy. He's the real trouble-maker in the family. Those Head Boy types always are." Crinkling his sharp nose, Fred let out a laugh. Even when he wasn't performing for the Gryffindors in his usual double-act, or terrible threesome with Lee Jordan, it was clear he found himself too funny. "Anyway, you haven't answered my question. What's one of Slytherin's golden girls doing in detention - with her Head of House, might I add? Aren't you a Prefect?

"I hexed Rowle." _Well, sort of 'hexed'._ Her knuckles still hurt.

"Maximillian Rowle? Merlin, wish I'd seen that. He's such a prick - heard he'd been picking on First Years, muggle-borns" Shaking his broad shoulders, the folds of his cloak rippling in the wind, Fred frowned to himself. His posture and tone changed, suddenly disapproving, as though he'd just remembered who he was talking too. "Then again, that's _Slytherin_ 's initiation."

Evie shrugged. There was something too keen about Fred Weasley's eyes, to perceptive. It was like he could see right through her. "You don't know us as well as you think you do."

"I suppose."

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from quipping back, Evie considered her words carefully. His open expression, reading her every move, made her feel as though she had already revealed too much. "It was a Slytherin first year he was picking on - muggle-born or otherwise. It's not just Gryffindor that are loyal - we never turn on our own. Especially if you're a Prefect - Rowle _forgot_ that."

_But yes, of course the First Year had been a muggleborn._

A stiflingly awkward silence proceeded this confession. Turning to her, it seemed for a moment that Fred wanted to say something - his soft lips parting, forming words, before he quietly decided on. "I didn't mean anything by it. It was pretty bold of you to hex Rowle - especially for a Prefect. Percy would never."

Evie couldn't help but smile as she watched him from the corner of her eye. "Like I told Snape - he's a very hexable person."

Waking her from this daydream - a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, standing together in harmony as they watched the distant candle-light in the castle windows, fleeting and burning - a sharp, high-pitched shriek came from behind her. "Evie!"

Whipping around, almost slipping on the stones only to be caught by Fred's hand on her back, Evie saw Cleo and Luc approaching them from the dirt-trodden path that wrapped around the Black Lake. It seemed they were out on a walk - both wrapped up in their winter coats and fluffy fur hats, for a torrent of wind had darkened the usual Highland chill.

Her nose pink and lips pinched straight; Cleo did not look pleased. _No_ , Evie thought, _she looks furious._ "Hi."

"What happened to detention?" Cleo's hands moved to her hips, revealing gloves cuffed with pearl. From his shifting posture as he took his hand off Evie's waist, it seemed that Fred's eyes also clung to this small detail. It was possible he was expecting her to draw her wand.

Biting her lip, Evie replied. "It finished early."

Fred stood up straight, readying himself. She had tried for years to chip at his ego - it was unlikely this would be the final blow. All the same, Cleo cast her eyes over the Gryffindor and said sharply to Evie. "So you just decided to hang out with a _blood traitor_?"

There was no room for Evie to reply to this as Fred pushed himself in front of Cleo. While she was rather small in stature, barely reaching Evie's shoulders, she looked up into Fred Weasley's eyes with a sneer across her scarlet lip. Cleobella Parkinson could make anyone feel small.

"Get up on the wrong side of the four-poster again, Cleo?" Fred quipped.

"Piss off, Weasley." Luc hissed. At Cleo's side, she stood shaking in her pink coat - not from fear, but from agitation at the sight of him. _And his sudden proximity to Cleo._

"Ooh, spitfire." Fred looked down to the wand that had appeared in Luc's hand. If she had been a better witch, he probably would have taken it as a threat. Luckily for him, she was not. "Haven't heard either of those insults before. You two should start writing them down."

Green-lined cloaks so striking against the ruby and gold of their enemy House, a barrier had erected itself on the rocks at the edge of the Black Lake. Though invisible, it was an impenetrable line built from centuries of rivalry, hemmed by prejudice. Somehow, Evie found herself on the wrong side for a moment, parted from her cousin.

Blinking her dark lashes, that tangible line was gone - but its impact remained.

Cleo looked over Fred's shoulder, pointedly ignoring his lacklustre retort. He wasn't worth her time. In a coy tone, she appealed to Evie. It was clear that she expected the 'correct' response. "We were heading to the Common Room - come with. Blaize snuck in some pygmy puffs."

Luc finished Cleo's sentence, earning her a jab to the ribs. "He's going to see which will win in a fight!"

"Yeah, Evie. Blood sports, sounds right up your street." It seemed that Fred did not like to be ignored. Especially not when Cleo had just stepped on his foot with her pointed heels. _How had she gotten down the path in those?_ "Who would want to miss that?"

Unable to read the humour in his voice, Luc's brows knitted together tightly. "You're not allowed to come Weasley."

"You snuck out of detention, didn't you?" While Fred might have been oddly perceptive, Cleo could read her like a book. Evie's cheeks flushing as she dropped her gaze. "Snape never lets anyone leave early. Not even you."

"He just had us organising ingredients." Recovering in an instant, when Evie looked up at Cleo again her eyes were steely and her voice cold. She stepped towards her cousin - crossing that invisible line. "Used the _disponere_ charm to get it done faster - then yeah, I didn't plan on kicking around that grotty part of the dungeon any longer than necessary."

Fred seemed taken aback, clearly noticing her cutting acquisition of his own words.

Everything about Evie had changed in an instant - she stood sharply upright, posture elegant and her voice cold and sharp. Smoothing down the folds of her cloak... she looked, though more gothic, like she might have been Cleo's reflection.

"I'm sure if you pinned your sudden absence on Weasley." Cleo smiled at her, pleased. "Snape would give us 20 house points."

Evie rolled her eyes. "20? I was thinking 50."

Catching her hand, Cleo pulled her over to her side. As they linked arms those familiar shackles fell back around Evie's wrists. It seemed that they were unwilling to spare the Gryffindor, still standing flustered at the side of the loch, another thought.

As Cleo and Luc dragged her back up to the castle, plotting ways they could get back at the twins for daring to even speak to their friend - as they couldn't tell which he had been - Evie found herself turning back. He had never confirmed it, but she was sure, so sure, that she had just spent the evening with Fred Weasley.

Their eyes met and he hissed under his breath, turning from her with a disappointed glare to watch the murky water, throwing a stone.

"A Slytherin alright."

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Thank you for reading - please consider leaving kudos or a comment. Also once again, sorry about the slight chapter reshuffle (but looking back they were a bit too long before and it made more sense to split them up.)


	7. Voyage of the Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evie and the Slytherin girls sneak out to watch the Durmstrang ship arrive - only for the Gryffindor boys to crash the party.

**"The world's a beast of a burden/**   
**You've been holding on a long time/**   
**And all this longing/**   
**And the ships are left to rust/**   
**That's what the water gave us."**

**\- Florence and the Machine, 'What the Water Gave Me'**

* * *

**October 30th, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

As Filch mercilessly shined the last of the suits of armour, Professor Flitwick perfected the drapery in the Great Hall and Professor McGonagall shouted at the students to form lines that ran down the grassy lawn at the front of the school - Evie Rothchild was hiding.

Well, Cleo hadn't exactly called it hiding. She called it 'hearing a rumour that Durmstrang would arrive on the Black Lake' and insisting that her gaggle of Slytherin friends - which for once included only her 'inner circle' - sneaked out of their formation on the green plane and risked life and limp to creep over to the walled cliff-side, overlooking the loch's docks.

But from Cleo's hushing tones and Luc's frantic glances and arranging the branches of the tall willow bushes that obscured their lofty watch-posts - Evie was pretty sure that they were in hiding.

"What was that?" Ara piped up, sitting up from her spot on the stone wall.

"Keep your voice down." Cleo chided her, glancing through the bushes at where Professor McGonagall was likely still insisting on smoothing down the lapels of school uniforms and casting shoe-shinning charms.

Frowning, Safiya flicked a branch and said in her low, accented voice. "I do not want to be here."

"You don't want to see the Durmstrang boys." Luc's brows dipped in confusion, her lip-glossed mouth forming a pout in her circular face. She seemed to have dressed up for the occasion - wearing new velvet shoes and adorning her short brown bob with a giant pink bow.

"We can see 'dem at the feast." Safiya replied curtly, to which Ara nodded. If it weren't for Cleo's look of supreme disappointment, Evie would have seconded this sensible opinion.

There was a rustling from the bushes that guarded their spot at the wall. At the same time multiple voices spoke over one another. "I told you guys I heard a noise!" "If you don't be quiet, we're going to get caught!" "Oh my Merlin its McGonagall we're _done_ for!"

Evie, however, simply said with a grin at the face poking through the leaves. "Freddie."

"Hey, Princess. Thought we might crash your party." Stepping out of the bushes, pulling at his snagging cloak, Fred Weasley joined the Slytherin girls huddled in the look-out-spot. He smiled at Evie, trying to move to her side before a brown-hand shot out from the bushes. "Fred, shit, I think something's got me."

After some tugging, Lee Jordan tumbled into the clearing, soon followed by George Weasley. They formed a tightly-knit unit, facing of against the girls who were yet to collect themselves. Ara was in the process of helping Safiya clamber up the old-stone wall, while Luc's shiny mouth was hanging open in horror.

It was Cleo, ever sharp, who spoke. "What the fuck are you three doing here?"

"Evie invited us." Lee Jordan grinned, flashing perfect white teeth. He was a particularly handsome Gryffindor with dark skin and shoulder-length dreadlocks, amber eyes set under thick lashes. Unluckily for him, his voice was particularly loud - making him a great quidditch commentator, but immediately earning him a fowl look from Cleo.

"To be fair-" Evie began, watching as Cleo shook her head and tried to communicate to her through squints and teeth-clenching. This was something her cousin only did when particularly angry, so Evie hurried the explanation. "All I said was, we heard that Durmstrang were arriving through the loch somehow and we were going to sneak off to see them first. I never actually-" She narrowed her eyes at the Gryffindor boys, who all grinned sheepishly "invited anyone."

Cleo 'tolerated' her cousin's rather new friendship with Fred - likely in the hope that it would fizzle off, probably due to the arrival of some perfect Pureblood suitor and his gaggle of well-bred sisters. But the sight of all of Gryffindor's 'terrible trio' (which was the most favourable nickname out of anything that Slytherin had handed out) seemed to be too much for Cleo.

They were saved from whatever might have followed by the fluttering wings and the jolting sound of wheels bumping off wood. Turning their eyes to the darkening sky, the sixth-years watched as the pale-blue carriages of Beauxbatons, marked by their school emblem and flare, flew towards the castle. The sound of distant applause shortly followed.

Once again lying on the wall, Safiya clutching at her hand as though she might secure her from falling, Ara said dreamily. "I wish _we_ all rode around in fancy carriages."

Luc had been peaking through the bushes, taking in the sight of the arriving students. Lee Jordan had been trying to do the same, only to jump out of the way and land in Cleo's arms (she promptly dropped him) due to Luc turning around dramatically and sweeping out her arms. "Look at their uniforms - I wish we had ones like those!"

As Luc picked at a threat on her dull cloak, Safiya and Lee Jordan, recovering from his fall, said with unusual synchronicity. "No you don't - they look freezing!"

With the rest of the make-shift group diving into a ridiculous squabble over school uniforms - with Luc insisting that their robes should all be a charming Slytherin green trimmed with lace and the Gryffindors could wear rags for all she cared - Fred lent over to Evie and whispered. "You never told me why _you're_ so interested in seeing Durmstrang first anyway?"

At this open and intimate gesture, she was sure her ear must have reddened.

In imitation of his twin, George whispered into Evie's ear as though they were conspiring together, his eyes hotly on Cleo. She watched them like a hawk. "Its definitely not for Krum - I've never seen her sit through a whole quidditch game."

This was true - though Evie did wonder why George Weasley might have maintained such an interest in Cleo's comings and goings at the quidditch field. As she started muttering under her breath about how much of an idiot he was, Evie suspected the Gryffindor rightfully feared that if she did ever attend a full quidditch game, she might have silently hexed him off his broom.

In response to the rumours that the Bulgarian seeker might actually have been part of the Durmstrang party, Cleo tossed her black hair and snapped. "Who _cares_ about Victor Krum."

Immediate protests broke out from the Gryffindor boys, who tussled to remind her that Krum was 'a legend', 'the youngest seeker in the game' and, as Lee Jordan put it, 'pretty fit.' Ara simply shouted, being a Chaser on the Slytherin quidditch team. "Oi!"

Turning to the girl on the wall, clearly believing that she needed a refresher on the 'mission', Cleo began her tirade in a simpering, contemptuous voice.

" _We_." She circled her finger around to indicate that she solely meant her friends. "Are all here because that ship is going to be filled with the very best that wizarding Europe has to offer us. And by that-" Cleo got strangely wistful at this point "-I mean Dimitri Rasputin - and the others, whatever, who cares - but _he_ will be _mine_."

Fred shook his head. "What is she talking about?"

Stifling a laugh, Evie tried her best to explain the situation. Even she found it more than a bit ridiculous. "Cleo believes that if we are the first to set our eyes on the illustrious Durmstrang boys - then they will be ours for the taking." Unable to stop herself, even while Cleo let out an exasperated sigh, she continued. "And somehow we will all be engaged and popping out pureblood children in lets say, a month at most."

Cleo knocked her so sharply in the ribs that breathing escaped Evie for a moment. "Aw!"

While all of the boys looked entirely gobsmacked by this, George's nose crinkled in disgust as he spoke. "You're _not_ serious."

"Why on Slytherin's Grave wouldn't I be - the Tri-Wizarding Tournament used to be the match-making event of the decade. All the pureblood families could vet out suitors and there were balls and chaperoned walks! I'm bringing back the tradition."

Lee Jordan, shaking with laughter at this mental image, replied knowingly. "Oh so you've all been smoking some crazy shit down in the dungeons then."

Fred was looking at Evie strangely, his brows furrowed and hands rubbing the back of his neck. It was likely that he was trying not to laugh along with his best friends for Evie's sake, which led her to her try and avoid his eye. It might have seemed silly, but to purebloods like their families, the idea of an arranged marriage was anything but.

"Is this a final, frantic attempt to save yourself from too much family inbreeding Cleo?" His chin in the air and an enigmatic smile on his face, George was shoved by Fred, who eyed him till he added. "Sorry Evie - I'm kidding - I'm kidding stop hitting me."

The twin's squabbling and Lee and Evie's sharing of knowing looks was interrupted by a sound like a plug being pulled from a sink - from the volume - the largest sink ever made, for it was coming from the Black Lake.

A whirlpool had formed in the centre of the loch, the black water spiralling around it as though intending to become flush with the unseen ground fathoms below, only for a needle to arise from the depths. It soon became clear that it was not in fact a needle, but the mast of the distant ship, which slowly rose as the tumultuous waters once again grew still.

All now lined up against the wall, the students stared wide eyed down at the loch. Once upon a time, the golden and black vessel might have appeared grand - but the ages or perhaps its many brushes with the bottom of the oceans had left it akin to a carcass. Picked clean of its opulence, the large boat with its crimson sails became thoroughly less impressive the closer it drew to the docks. Its lustre tarnished.

Or at least, Evie thought so, but Lee Jordan let out a low whistle.

"Forget the carriages - that - is de' way to travel." Offering her solemn opinion, Safiya pointed at the Durmstrang ship.

Or perhaps it was impressive - its sides lined with golden portholes like peering eyes and the wood of the deck a burnished mahogany - but the sight of it had Evie shivering.

As enchanted planks thundered against the dock, figures emerged on the deck of the ship. Students. While it would have been impossible to distinguish them from the entrance lawn, Evie could clearly make out some of the fur-cloaked figures, led by a rake like man with wispy white hair and cold eyes. At the Headmasters side, whom she recognised from the posters, was Victor Krum.

But this was not who Cleo suddenly exclaimed at.

"Oh my Merlin, he's more handsome than his photos in _Greengrass_." Shaking her cousin's arm like an excited Third Year on their first visit to Honeydukes, Cleo pointed at a boy at the back at the sharp line of Durmstrang students who trailed onto the path. "Evie - look!"

From the mass of rather similar looking boys in blood-red cloaks and large furry hats, Evie knew exactly which one Cleo intended for her to admire. He was one of the last to disembark the ship, turning to a similar looking girl with a thin face and a curtain of straight brown hair, to lift up his nose at his first sight of Hogwarts. The boy, stoney faced and rather unremarkable, was Dimitri Rasputin, with the girl likely his twin sister, Katrine.

Sadly, Evie had been forced to learn this fact due to Cleo's tendency to wave about and read aloud copies of the pureblood gossip rag - the _Greengrass_ _Heritage_ \- whenever she could catch her in the dormitory. The stodgy magazine, a favourite of old pureblood gossips like Cleo's mother, detailed affairs of all of the eligible bachelors and up-and-coming ladies of the wizarding world. For Salazar knows what reason, Cleo liked to pour over it till her eyes grew sore and she stuffed it back in her bedside drawer with the rest of her old copies, only to await the following week's post so that she could quiz her friends on the latest round of foreign faces.

So yes, Evie was pretty sure that it was Katrine and Dimitri Rasputin, the Russian royals, that were regretfully placing their booted feet on Scottish soil.

"Who's that with him?" Evie wondered aloud, gazing down as Dimitri was met by a gaggle of Durmstrang boys who seemed to have purposefully kept themselves at the back of the line. Their leader, who was jokingly dragging Dimitri along and seemed to be chastising him, was a gorgeous and tall boy with honey curls.

"That-" Cleo began, only to be interrupted by the excitable Luc. "That's Alexei Varga - _Lord_ Alexei Varga!"

In unison Evie chimed in with Fred, revealing that she must not have paid that much attention to _Greengrass_ after all. "Who?"

The noise from the walled cliff-side travelled down the path that led up into the school grounds, a series of furry heads glanced up to find the source of the commotion. Alexei Varga's hazel eyes flickered directly to Evie - the corner of his lip twitched as he winked, before all his friends scrambled to wave up at them, hooting and grinning.

Under his breath, having seen this exchange, Fred mumbled. "I mean he's alright if you like massive sideburns and stupid hats. Why's _he_ so special then?"

"Well for starters Weasley-" Cleo snipped, her voice cold as she unleashed one of her glorious scarlet-lipped smiles at the crowd of watchful Durmstrang boys. Dimitri Rasputin failed to look up. "He has more money than you could ever dream - oh, and he's a Lord. One day he's going to inherit almost _all_ of wizarding Hungary and he comes directly from pureblood royalty. So in comparison to you, I'd say he was pretty special."

"Literally why do you know all of this - aren't you supposed to spend your time studying Transfigurations, not Lords?"

Lee Jordan spoke as he butted in between them all, waving down at the crowd before cupping his hands around his mouth and screaming hello.

"I can do both." Cleo smacked Lee's hand till he stopped shouting. "Oh, that must be Ivon Oblasnk - his dad is the Bulgarian Minister of Magic!"

Before any of them could tell Cleo to stop pointing out random teenagers, or enquire as to which one of the identically dressed boys she was talking about, there came a rustling from the bushes. In an instant, a greying tabby cat with circles around its eyes transformed into the frowning Professor McGonagall.

In her strong Inverness accent, the Transfiguration teacher looked over the terrified crowd of students who all knew what they were in for. "Would any of you care to explain what exactly you're doing hiding in the bushes, when you are supposed to be _politely_ greeting our guests with the rest of the school, in the Entrance Hall?"

Luc, who had covered her mouth with her hands to stop herself screaming, merely blinked at her.

Pushing his way to the front of the group, rolling up his sleeves as though he thought that getting them out of trouble was about to be a simple task, Lee Jordan smiled up at his Head of House. "Well, Professor-"

"None of that from you today, Lee. Don't even try it." McGonagall pinched the bridge of her pointed nose and ran a hand over her tight greying bun, smoothing down non-existent strands. "I don't have time for this, the Feast is about to begin. I didn't expect to find some of my sixth years - and prefects - arguing with each other in the bushes when we have guests. Just get inside - I'll find out what you lot were up too later."

Immediately displeased to be in any way associated with the Gryffindors, Cleo was the first to push her way back through the bushes and make her way to the tree-lined path that would lead them to the Castle. Lee and the twins stayed behind, seemingly trying to reason with Professor McGonagall, who shook her head and soon turned back into a cat.

Alone on the path, Evie was soon swarmed by the terrible trio on all sides. "So-" they all asked. "Managed it yet?"

"By it you mean an aging potion so advanced that you're not supposed to attempt it till seventh year." Revealing a tiny purple vail from the inside pocket of her cloak, Evie tossed it to Fred. "Yes. I have."

"Cool let's see it then!" George snatched it from Fred, shaking the liquid inside till it gargled. "I probably could have managed this... eventually."

"It's not ready yet - I'm brewing the final, proper, one after the Feast. It should be very potent, aging potions always do smell a bit dusty... I'm not actually sure I should be giving it to you lot."

"Because it's gonna' stink?" Lee questioned.

"No - because I'm not sure what good you lot could possibly get up to with an aging potion. We still don't know how exactly they're stopping sixteen-year-old idiots like yourselves from entering the competition - there is probably some spell on the Goblet or something - and I doubt I can fool Dumbledore's magic."

"Doubting your skills?" Fred nudged her shoulder.

In a mocking duplication of Cleo, Evie rolled her eyes. "No, never."

"Good. With your talent we won't have to test our own potions on unsuspecting First Years."

To himself, George said. "I mean we still could."

Lee nodded firmly in agreement, giving George a subtle high-five. "That would be pretty funny." Evie frowned at them both, tapping her Prefect badge before grinning.

Ruffling her hair, Fred placed a hand on Evie's waist to draw her into a side-hug. Flustered, she found herself glancing up at that little freckle just bellow his dimple. "You're going to lead us to glory."

Throwing his hands up in the air like he expected gold to rain from the heavens, George announced so loudly that Cleo and the girls glanced back down the path, suddenly aware that Evie was once again missing. "And a great big pile of galleons so we don't have to try and get our hands on that git Ludo- aw - I mean, yeah, glory!"

As George stopped to rub his shin, having been kicked off the path by his twin, Evie found herself smiling at their antics. It was so like them, to truly believe that they could all win the Tri-wizard tournament - damn the rules, damn the dozens of other entrants - it must have been a Gryffindor thing.

"Cleo's right. You guys know that you can't all be Hogwarts Champion right?"

As they all erupted in laughter, Fred and George strategizing some complicated plan were they both masquerade as a single, third triplet named Erasmus Christopher Berthkin Weasley, or 'Berty' for short - Evie's mind was far from Cleo's romantic daydreams of joint weddings to Durmstrang suitors.

No, she was happy just as she was.

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: I am actually really proud of this chapter and think it might be my favourite so far! I know it is a bit of a filler, but I love getting to write basically all of the main characters interacting with each other (especially Cleo and George *wink*). 
> 
> If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a vote or a comment as I'm not too sure how everyone might be feeling about this fic!


	8. Fireworks and Freshly-Cut Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Charms lesson in interrupted by the Weasley twins and Evie Rothchild tells the truth (well, a bit of it.)

**"The way you move is like a full on rainstorm/**   
**And I'm a house of cards/**   
**You're the kind of reckless that should send me running/**   
**But I kinda know that I won't get far/**   
**Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile."**

**\- Taylor Swift, 'Sparks Fly'**

****♡♡♡** **

* * *

**September** , **1993\. [Fifth Year]**

Resisting the urge to bite the top of her quill – an elegant welcome-back gift from Cleo's mother – Evie let out a sharp sigh and smacked her foot against the wooden leg of the desk. Professor Flitwick was supposed to be teaching them about the magical theory behind the silencing charm. Well, he would have been if the tiny man with the well-trimmed moustache hadn't vanished mid-lesson to hunt for what he called a 'demonstration toad'.

The Weasley twins had immediately started acting like their Charms teacher was never coming back.

Jumping up from their desks on the far side of the drafty classroom, for heaven forbid the Houses would get too close, the red-headed Gryffindors had produced something from their robe pockets. Grins on their identical faces as though they had been praying for Flitckwick's absence and the day had finally come, they darted over to the demonstration desk. Clearing loose feathers and levitation rocks from the work surface, the twins set something down with a thump.

Evie had at first assumed the rockets were from Zonkos, but as she squinted her eyes and Gryffindors thronged round the desk in anticipation, it became apparent that the mauve and emerald fireworks were of the twin's own creation. _Fucking fantastic. Could it get any worse?_

As she thought those very words, Fred and George started to talk like they were ring-leaders at the circus, with Lee Jordan starting a drum-roll.

"They're just testers." One of them shouted over the admiring Gryffindors and already huffing Slytherin. At least Evie's House knew what they were in for – nothing ever worked out well with the Weasley's 'testers'.

The other twin added. "Yeah, the real one's will be much bigger."

It had been two days since their first detention and the incident at the side of the Black Lake. _Blood Traitor._ But for the life of her, when they were together and chiming along in tandem, Evie still couldn't tell the twin's apart. _Which one is Fred?_

There were gasps from the Gryffindors as the twins lit their fireworks with a stunning charm – part of their experimentation – and they flew up, up into the arched ceiling of the classroom. Among the rafters, as Gryffindors gasped, the hurling bolts of splintering flame formed into a single mass.

Burning and amber, a tiny lion roared – the Gryffindor's roared back. Across the classroom, the Slytherin booed.

The contrast between the Houses only grew worse as the fiery lion, clearly insulted by its lack of a response from the emerald students below, hurled itself over the tops of the Gryffindors heads and directly at the Slytherin. Whizzing around their ears, many students jumping out of the way or ducking under desks, the lion would circle and snap around anyone that moved.

Evie and Cleo sat perfectly still – wearing matching expressions of distaste – as Luc was tormented by the lion for trying to get away. Squatting it with her hands, she seemed to have forgotten that she could actually do magic.

"Smells like cheap muggle tricks." Pinching her delicate nose, Cleo's eyes slitted at the laughing Gryffindors. "I'm going to have to wash my hair again!"

It was true, the firework did smell a lot like those of the sulphurous muggle variety. However, Cleo spoke as though that was the worst thing she could possibly smell like. As though there were some sort of sensible pureblood fireworks that would leave the wafting scent of freshly-cut roses.

Frowning, Evie raised her wand. " _Mutatio-ignis_."

The lion was caught by the spell, halting in the air and dissolving into a fit of sparks. Cleo nudged her in the side, whispering the final addendum to the incantation, which Evie repeated. " _Serpentum Vectum_."

Above the Gryffindors heads, a hissing green snake slithered in the air. They all turned to Evie and Cleo, who had spoiled their fun, to scowl. With the shoe now promptly on the other foot, a few of the Gryffindor girls being chased by the harmless snake, they no longer found it all so funny.

One of the twins fired their wands. " _Mutatio-ignis, leo_."

Evie didn't need to guess which, as he spoke the words and the serpent once again transformed into the emblem of his house, she knew. His eyes burning and brows tightly drawn, his scowl was sharper than all the rest. _Fred Weasley_.

"Oh, what is this?" Professor Flitwick pushed open the door to the classroom carrying a stack of textbooks far taller than him topped by a vermilion toad. Setting it down and checking the time, clearly realising that his lesson ought to be drawing to a close and that the fireworks were largely harmless, but rather annoying, he added. "A charming piece of magic – truly – but I can't allow rogue fireworks in my classroom."

Casting a short spell that transformed the creature into a shower of falling sparks, Flitwick turned to the twins, whispering. "You really must show me how you did this. Could you make an eagle?"

As the class stuffed their rolls of parchment and quills into robe pockets and bags, everyone was eager to get out of the door. For everyone else, they were free for the rest of that Wednesday afternoon and could enjoy their time before dinner. Evie, standing just outside of the classroom and leaning up against the stone wall, wished she could say the same.

"We're going to have to work on that _not_ happening." George said, unless they had switched positions, to his twin as a reaction to Flitwick's spell.

Fred muttered something to his brother, who shrugged his broad shoulders and started running over to Lee Jordan at the front of the escaping Gryffindor crowd. He paused for a moment outside of the classroom, firework shell in hand. Fred seemed to have realised that Evie was out there... and she was waiting for him.

"I wanted to talk to you." Pushing off from the wall, Evie didn't meet his eyes. _Stupid Weasley_.

As if noting his momentary lapse in judgment, Fred made to start walking. His voice was curt and cold. "Interesting. I don't want to talk to you."

On any other day, for any other reason, Evie would have let him storm off. She didn't need to call him back, to explain herself – and she wasn't, for she had done nothing wrong – but she called out to him all the same. "Wait, really... _please_."

Parkinsons, Rothchilds, they did not say please. Fred turned.

"Look alright. I heard that Snape gave you detention and-" Evie continued, trying to pretend like she had never said the last part. The tips of her ears were turning pink beneath her long black hair.

Fred shot daggers at her down the corridor, his back poker straight and hands balled. "Like you and Cleo didn't run straight to him the other night."

If was unclear if he had just forgotten Luc's name or even her presence. In his mind, they were all probably over-shadowed by Cleo and her favourite toy. Evie. A puppet, with her strings clenched tightly in her cousin's fist.

It had taken a lot of distraction to stop Cleo from turning him in. "Actually, wedidn't."

"Oh yeah, like I would believe _you._ "

Shaking her head, her eyes burning more dangerously than the fireworks, Evie snapped back at him. "I don't care whether you believe me or not Weasley." _Why was she telling him this then?_ "Snape asked me about it, wanted to know what spell had been used, and I explained that you simply weren't good enough at charms for a sorting spell."

His brows arched. "Oi-you-"

"-And that I had done it." Evie finished bluntly, crossing her arms.

Taken aback, very literally as he moved a few paces as though he needed to examine her from a distance, Fred asked. "Why on Godric's Grave would you tell him that?"

"Because while he was annoyed, he was also somewhat impressed when he found out it was _me_ and not _you_. The whole cupboard was pretty much in order, only thing that tipped him off must have been how quick we left. He seemed impressed – though no one told his face."

Ignoring this blatant show of favouritism towards Snape's own House, for such an act would have seen a Gryffindor in detention for two month and the threat of testing poisons without antidotes, Fred quipped eagerly. "So I don't have to visit your grotty dungeon again?"

Rolling her eyes and letting out a little huff, like the thought of him anywhere near Slytherin's home turf made her exasperated, Evie said. "No. We're both still in detention for sneaking out – its Severus Snape we're talking about here. I only told you that so... you'd keep your constant daggers to yourself."

They both had detention, together, every Friday for the next four weeks. Clearly thinking that a Slytherin Prefect might be more of a punishment to Fred than just any menial task he could cook up, Snape had informed her of it that afternoon. Evie still had her additional one that evening for 'hexing' Rowle and maintaining her refusal to explain why.

As she shoved past him and headed down to her evening of taping up old copies of 'Practical Potion Making', Fred Weasley muttered something to himself. "Sure you did."

But this time, unlike out at the Black Lake, Evie refused to just walk away and ignore his words. And she didn't have to, for Cleo was nowhere in sight.

She tossed up a rude and terribly muggle hand-gesture. "See you Friday."

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: As I'm pretty sure no one actually wants to see every single detention (right?), I plan on jumping forwards a bit with the next couple of flashbacks/ memories of Fifth Year.


	9. Charmed, We're Sure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dumbledore's age line will not hinder the scheming of the Weasley twins and Evie Rothchild literally runs into one of Durmstrang's 'bachelors'.

**"I put a spell on you /**

**Because you're mine."**

**Annie Lennox, 'I Put a Spell on You'**

****♡♡♡** **

* * *

**October 30th, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

_An age line, of course!_ Dragged along with the crowd of students that spilled from the Great Hall, Evie was trapped between a bunch of chattering Second Years and a few lost Beauxbaton girls. Having been later to the Feast than Cleobella and Luc, who had journeyed ahead on the path from their vantage point over the Black Lake, she had been crammed on the end of the Slytherin table. Now Evie had to fend for herself in the rush.

As soon as Dumbledore had announced that the Goblet of Fire would be placed in the Entrance Hall from that very evening, with any student able to enter their name if they could pass through the age line, Evie knew they were in trouble. Or rather, Fred, George and Lee were in trouble if she couldn't get to them before they vanished off into the Gryffindor Common room for the night.

It was never too hard to find the twins, given that they were incredibly lanky, red-haired and loud. In fact, if she closed her eyes, Evie might have had better luck.

She had to find Freddie – she just had to. They needed to strategize a way to get around Dumbledore's age line, now that they knew how exactly the Goblet was guarded. _Shit_. It wasn't going to be easy, the magic was ridiculously advanced. All the same, Evie felt that she might just be able to manage it – after all, she had been perfecting her potion all month. But... she would much rather try and talk the twins out of it. Not that it would ever work, they were so stubborn. _Gryffindors_.

"Well, that should be fooled by an aging potion, shouldn't it? And once your names' in that Goblet, you're laughing!" As he stood up with the other Gryffindors, Fred had turned his head slightly in the direction of the Slytherin table, winking. In an instant, he had been swallowed up by the crowd.

Finally pushing her way into the Entrance Hall, Evie couldn't see or hear the twins anywhere. _Why is that cocky, foolish arsehole so sure that my potion is going to work? He's an absolute...ugh!_

Silently debating between the creation of a near lethally potent Aging Potion, or simply not giving into the Weasley's demands, which always seemed to escape Evie as an option, someone smacked directly into her.

There was a shattering sound as she tripped on the cobbles and landed against the ground. "Watch where you're going you prat!"

"I'm so sorry." As a voice with a mild Eastern European accent spoke, a gloved hand shot out and pulled a begrudgingly accepting Evie to her feet. "Please let me make it up to you."

Evie reached inside of her cloak, ignoring the idiot that had just accosted her, to feel a slick damp pooling in her inner pocket and shards were her potion vial had been. Scowling, she grasped the shards carefully and turned to the fool who had knocked into her. "Make it up to me how – going to find a time turner so you can go back and not run into me...You!"

Alexei Varga stood before her, dressed in his crimson and fur-lined cloak. His fellow Durmstrang students, who Karkaroff had directed back to their ship for the night, took a single glance at the boy in the centre of the Hogwarts Entrance Hall and diverted from his path. He was more handsome up close, his hair falling in neat coils over his forehead and a pronounced cupid's bow hovering above his pillow lips. His dark eyes followed Evie's every changing thought as she realised what she had just done. _Shouted...at a Lord. Called him a prat._

"Me?" He smiled at her, his brows dipping. Pointing with a gloved hand at her cloak, Alexei tilted his head. "I meant whatever broke in your pocket – I can fix it for you. I'm rather good at Charms – its my Speciality."

Evie wasn't entirely sure what he meant by Speciality, perhaps it was some sort of Durmstrang equivalent to NEWTS. She didn't have any time to question him about it, not that she would have, as Evie flushed and started to explain herself.

"I saw you from the wall, when you got off the ship." She showed him the shards of glass that she held lightly in her palm, the dregs of luminous Aging Potion slipping from between her fingers. "And it's a potion that shattered – even a Charm can't fix it. I'm making another lot tonight, it doesn't really matter. It was only a practise."

Alexei didn't seem to believe her, as he slipped a black wand tipped in gold from the inside of his thick cloak. He flicked his hand, without saying a word, the bottle repaired itself. _A non-verbal spell... he wasn't joking about being good at Charms then._

"I'm glad to see you again – and I'm sorry I can only mend the vial, not the potion itself. Its my friend Katrine that Specialises in Potions."

Evie let out a little cough, tried to cover it with a polite smile and wanted to kick herself, putting the vial back in her pocket. _Katrine Rasputin?_ It seemed dreadfully unfair to her that he was a filthy rich and handsome pureblood, so well connected and ALSO already talented at non-verbal magic. _I mean, not even Cleo can do wordless magic properly yet._

"I'm Alexei Varga." As he dipped into a short bow, Evie was broken from her trance.

Shaking his extended hand, she said. "I'm Evie Rothchild." It was a bit formal, after all, they were teenagers meeting and not foreign diplomats. _Then again...he was a Lord._

As he rose to his full height, Evie was sure that she caught a sharp glint of recognition in his eyes. She made a mental note to ask Cleo if perhaps her name might have also been featured among the list of up-and-coming ladies in _Greengrass_. For Alexei seemed to brighten instantly at the sound of her name, grinning and gesturing to some boys that were slipping through the Hall.

"And these are my friends. Rodion Engels." A short boy with dark black hair and tanned skin slinked to Alexei's side. His hands stuffed firmly in his pockets, he checked her over with an unmoving expression. All of a sudden, his dark hair turned a bright navy and he saluted Evie and said with a slurring London accent. "Alright'."

Appearing from the shadows stepped a boy with pale white hair, he could have been Draco Malfoy's cousin. Then again, somewhere down the line everyone was Draco's cousin. "And Ivon Oblansk."

 _Fuck. The son of the Bulgarian Minister of Magic._ Unlike Rodion, he did not magically transform his appearance and break out into a grin. Rather, he nodded at her respectfully and continued to stand behind Alexei. He reminded Evie of a guard dog... strange.

"Nice to meet you." Evie said to the Durmstrang boys, trying her best to make up for her rude introduction to Alexei with a smile.

Pointing at her tie with a ring covered finger, Rodion jutted his chin. " You' another Slytherin? We sat with your lot at the Feast. But I didn't see you there?"

Though his words were energetic and light, Evie had the oddest feeling that he was snooping for information. "Oh, I got there late. You might have met some of my friends – Cleobella Parkinson?"

As Rodion and Alexei exchanged another knowing look – _I definitely need to check Greengrass_ _again_ – it was Ivon who spoke. "I don't believe ve' did."

"But I'm sure we would just love to." Rodion's voice was flippant, elbowing Ivon as though he had been expecting a bit more of a response. While he looked like a rather gloomy character, bags under his dark eyes and a stiff upper lip, his movements grew frantic and fidgeting as he clapped together his hands – his hair suddenly turning ruby. "Especially if they're any good at Quidditch. Our friend Jonas is looking to put together a team – we heard you guys weren't having your Cup this year – thought we could play a few matches. Friendlys, of course."

"Oh, I'm sure they would...love to play Quidditch." Evie tried to keep her lip from twitching at the thought of Cleo hearing all of this. "They really want to get to know you guys better."

Alexei smiled, nudging Rodion out of the way. "I'd like to get to know _you_ better."

This caused Rodion to snort, saying softly under his breath and earning himself a kick in the shins from Ivon. "I'm sure you would." Evie's face burned the colour of their school uniforms.

"Oh there's Jonas – he better not have been with Beauxbaton again – JONAS!" Catching sight of one of the final Durmstrang boys slipping out of the hall, barely visible from his place in the middle of some girls dressed in the French schools' silks, Rodion whipped around and started shouting. "JONAS!"

Suddenly remembering that he had been in the middle of a conversation, Rodion turned back. "Sorry Evie, was it, we've got to get going."

Alexei did not look like he was prepared to leave, standing firmly on the spot and continuing to pay close attention to Evie. That was until Rodion grabbed him by the arm and dragged him in the direction of the vanishing Beauxbaton crowd.

"Alright, well...by then." She called to them lamely.

Rodion was distracted but Ivon gave her another polite bow as he darted out of the door, while Alexei winked. Then, they were gone.

"Oh my fucking Merlin!"

Twisting around to catch the sight of Cleo hovering in the corner, having obviously started across the Entrance Hall the moment the Durmstrang boys seemed to be leaving, Evie said in alarm. "Cleo!"

"What, did you think I'd abandon you? You lucky bitch, I thought you'd snuck off with Weasley again but no... what did he say? What's he like? He's so handsome? Did he say anything about Dimitri?"

Shaking her head and folding her arms tightly across her chest, Evie laughed. "You sound like Luc."

"Luc is off trying to convince a Beauxbaton girl to swap uniforms. _You_ on the other hand –" Cleo took Evie's hands and seemed to be shaking from pride, her red lips splitting her face. "Have Alexei Varga giving you goo-goo eyes already! I must really be rubbing off on you Evie-baby."

"He knocked me over, I didn't loose a handkerchief and he picked it up or anything."

Because of course Cleo was imagining some introduction like in a muggle romance novel. Though they hadn't spoken about it, she had caught her cousin reading Pride and Prejudice one summer.

Gripping her by the top of her arm now, Cleo squealed. "And!"

" _Yes_ , I suppose he is handsome. _No_ , he didn't say anything about Dimitri, but he did possibly mention his sister. Oh - he also said that his friend is looking to invite a few of us to play Quidditch some time. Maybe he would be there."

Cleo dropped her vein popping grip on Evie's shoulder and let out another squeal. "Oh that's perfect!"

"You hate Quidditch!" Evie protested.

In a dreamy, distant voice Cleo spoke with her hands woven tightly together like she was praying. "That is beside the point. It would be so romantic. He could show me how to fly properly and-"

Evie muttered. " _More like watch you fall off your broom."_

Cleo smacked her on the forearm and said, back again from that evenings daydream of giant palaces in the heart of St. Petersburg. "What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing."

Suddenly remembering something, Cleo pouted out her bottom lip and raised her voice to a childish pitch. This was her _I want something_ voice, and Evie hated it. "Tomorrow, when I put my name in the Goblet, I want to borrow that satin hair ribbon Mummy sent you, you never wear it anyway, and those pearl-drop earrings."

Evie's mouth fell open as she struggled to find words and not to throttle Cleo on the spot. They were still in the Entrance Hall, it would have been a different story in the common room. "When you put your name in the Goblet! Cleo I thought you weren't going-"

"Yes, well, all the Durmstrang boys are getting up early tomorrow to put their names in. They have to, otherwise Karkaroff wouldn't let them come. Some blond guy – Jonas something – was telling me all about it." Tossing her hand, Cleo didn't appear at all bothered by the dangers of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. _Slytherin_. "Seemed a bit all over the place if you ask me, but I think Luc likes him. Merlin, would they make stupid babies."

Perhaps it was a common name in wizarding Europe, but Evie had a strange feeling Cleo had ran into the missing member of Alexei's crew. _Another coincidence?_

"That's mean, Cleo." Evie pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to steady her breathing. "And you can't put your name in just so you might get the chance to meet Dimitri."

As she always did in those rare moments were Evie was truly reproachful of her behaviour, Cleo's face twisted with hurt. Her milky cheeks stained pink and those gloriously dark, cutting eyes softened. It drained from her face in an instant, smothered by a sudden closing off of her true emotions and the appearance of her signature, coy smile.

A wall was up and the girl that Hogwarts thought they knew as Cleo was back once again, her voice teasing. "I'm not mean. I'm honest. So you should trust me when I say that there is no way my name's getting pulled from that Goblet – but 'love knows no bounds'. Another stupid muggle saying really, I don't need to love him. But I do _want_ him – think of me in a tiara."

Those were Cleo's final words on the matter before she pulled Evie in the direction of the nearby stairwell which would take them down to the dungeon. Her cousin intended to cram in all the gossip she had heard at the Feast before they were forced to split up – Cleo heading to the common room, Evie off to the Potion's Classroom to brew the final Aging Potion.

Not that Cleo knew Evie was off doing a favour to the Weasleys. She was under the impression that her cousin needed to prepare for a NEWT practical – and perhaps it did count as practise, after all, it was a dreadfully hard potion to make. Not that she would tell that to Fred. Aging line or not, he believed in her.

Shaking her head and frowning wryly to herself, Evie removed the charmed but presently empty vail from inside of her robes. _Love knows no bounds._

  
**♡♡♡**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Oh yes, here he is, one of my favourite characters... and somehow I'm talking about Rodion Engels! If you are wondering, yes he is a descendant of the one and only Friedrich Engels (and he just happens to be a metamorphmagus!)
> 
> However, on the subject of the Durmstrang characters (and additionally the Slytherin girls), if you are having trouble picturing them, I have some edits and gifs of the 'cast' up on my Wattpad (this_pendent_world.) 
> 
> Crucially (because it absolutely is), I imagine that Alexei Varga looks like Tom Hughes (who played Prince Albert in 'Victoria'.)


	10. The Goblet of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fred and George Weasley attempt to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire.

**"I hope** **you** **can** **understand** **/**  
 **There's a reason why/**  
 **Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies."**

**\- Fleetwood Mac, 'Little Lies'**

* * *

**31st October, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

The Hogwarts Entrance Hall was packed with students who had arisen early that particular Halloween morning, scoffed their breakfast in the Great Hall and joined the throng of teenagers that surrounded the Goblet of Fire. In the alcoves of the cavernous walls, on raised wooden benches, students scrambled for the best seat in which to watch those daring enough to enter their name.

Well, others were forced to fight each other for good seats. Cleobella had convinced Cassius Warrington to save them a spot at the very top of the left wall, directly before the Goblet. Evie had no idea how, but there were whisperings she had promised him a butterbeer the next time there was a Hogsmeade weekend. This made her laugh... Cleo would never be caught dead with Warrington. _Pureblood or not._

"We can't have a Hufflepuff Champion." Cleo let out a whine, kicking her foot against the bench, as Cedric Diggory slipped through the golden age line that encircled the Goblet. He ruffled his brown-curls anxiously before dropping a piece of parchment into the cup. The flames sprung blue as the Hufflepuff cheered.

From the row below Cleo and Evie, who reigned supreme over their gaggle of friends and a few tag-alongs, Luc tilted her head as the Hufflepuff waved their House scarfs for their favoured Champion. "Yellow isn't my colour... but Cedric doesn't seem that bad."

"He's a half-blood." Cleo frowned at her, rolling her eyes. "And you only think that because he's cute."

"You're running out of options then, Cleo." Evie sighed, wishing that she could have just stayed in bed. But there was an Aging Potion carefully tucked in the pocket of her robes, her eyes constantly flickering to the stairwell. _Where are they?_ "Unless you'll be cheering for the Durmstrang Champion?"

They had been having the exact same conversation all morning. All manner of Hogwarts students had entered their names into the Goblet of Fire – all of them had been dismissed for some reason or another. Cleo thought Cedric could never represent the Slytherin. Safiya had called Warrington 'as slow as a sloth, ah' very likely casualty'. Even Ara had mentioned that she didn't want Angela Johnson to get it as that meant that she couldn't continue with their quidditch practises (which Cleo tutted at, 'and she's a Gryffindor!')

"Well, this Tournament is all about fostering good international relations." Cleo smiled, nodding her head in the direction of the far wall. The Slytherin girls giggled.

Across the room, almost the entirety of Durmstrang were taking it in succession to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire. It seemed that Jonas had been telling the truth, as a tall girl with skeletal features, likely some sort of Prefect, seemed to be ticking names off a list. Among them was Alexei Varga and his friends – as well as Dimitri Rasputin. Evie hadn't failed to notice that all of the group, but Ivon, were yet to enter their names.

"But anyway." Cleo straightened her back and smiled down at her fan-club and her friends, who all gazed up at her in her lofty seat. "You can all support _me_."

With this Cleo flexed a folded piece of parchment that she had been holding all morning – though she had also failed to enter her name. Cleo was clearly looking for the perfect moment to catch Dimitri's eye... or she was scared. Either way, Evie had swapped out her entry slip with 'fast vanishing ink', which it was rumoured the Goblet would not accept.

Biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling, Evie nodded along with the rest of the Slytherin girls.

"Are you going to do it soon." Safiya, who was munching on a piece of toast as she fixed the ribbons of her ballet pointe shoes, asked dully.

With toast between her teeth and a broom tucked in the crook of her arm, Ara nodded. "Yeah, sorry Cleo. I, we, really need to get to practise – but we do want to support you and all..."

Glaring at them as she rose in her seat, her feathers ruffled, Cleo tried to play off the fact that she had no real excuse not to get up and enter her name. Evie could see that her hands were shaking as she spoke. "Yes... of course I am. Watch and see, ladies and gents– I'll be your Champion."

Making her way to the centre of the Entrance Hall, Cleo strutted around the age line for a moment. Evie wanted to drag her ridiculous and overly dramatic self back to her seat and to tell her that she simply wasn't doing it – because she didn't even want to be Champion!

But Cleo would never back down. _Maybe she should have been put in Gryffindor._

As Evie's eyes travelled for a moment from the glowing Cleo to the far wall, she realised that Alexei Varga was smiling at her. From the cheers of the Slytherin girls, which largely consisted of her cousins name over and over, he mouthed. _"Cleo?"_

Nodding, Evie laughed. _Oh yes._ Likely contemplating if she could use a memory charm on everyone in the room in order to avoid the possibility of having to do any sort of sport in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. _This is the legendary Cleo._

When Cleo finally let the cheers die down, craning her neck to see if the bored looking Dimitri had looked up at her (he had not), she stuck her piece of parchment into the Goblet. Well, to those who weren't paying attention it certainly seemed like it, for the Slytherin cheered. But Evie had watched her exchange the slip with another stuffed down her sleeve.

What was it she had said again, Evie tried to recall it. _Oh yes. 'Trust me when I say that there is no way my name's getting pulled from that Goblet.'_ It seemed that both of them had had similar ideas.

As Cleo was swarmed by cheering Slytherin, Ara and Safiya slipped from the room to head to practise and Luc sat huffing about how ugly the Hogwarts uniforms were in comparison to the Beauxbaton girls again – there was a commotion at the foot of the stairwell.

Running into the Entrance Hall, a crowd of Gryffindors cheering at their back, was the Weasley Twins. They were followed by Lee Jordan, who strode in and merely shrugged.

In an instant, Fred was pushing aside Gryffindors in order to climb up onto the benches with Evie. The remaining Slytherin girls, who were mostly off cheering Cleo, parted like the Red Sea and shot him daggers as he leant against Evie's shoulder.

"Hey, Princess. Is it ready?" Fred grinned, his hand reaching out for one of the two small green bottles that Evie had removed from her robes.

While Lee Jordan controlled the crowd of excited Gryffindors, telling them just how he intended to best anything the Tournament could throw at him, George slipped onto the row of seats below Evie. He took the other tiny emerald bottle, apprising it with a curious look.

"If you hadn't rushed out of the Hall last night, I could have told you that I don't think its going to work."

Fred shot back. "Why is that?"

"A genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by something as dim-witted as an Aging Potion." Evie's mouth felt dry as she spoke, her hands sweating.

"Want a bet?" Fred snatched the other bottle back from his twin, lent over to Evie and placed a soft kiss on her already flushed cheek. "Thanks for this."

George rolled his eyes. "You sound like Hermione – and ugh!"

There was a loud coughing from below. They all turned to find that Luc had returned from the gaggle of Slytherin girls in the centre of the room, her glossy lips in a sneer as she batted her lashes and said. "A bet – with what money Weasley?"

Returning to the edge of the benches, smacking George for taking her seat, she snapped. "Get off of Evie." Luc then shot Evie a look that very clearly said, all frowning brows and lifted chin as she stormed off. ' _I will be telling Cleo.'_

But Evie simply couldn't care. Not when her mind was spinning from the touch of those soft, warm lips. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, like a burst of fireworks across the night sky, as she tried to steady her breathing. _Friends can kiss each other on the cheek_. She was holding onto his sleeve, fiddling with the golden wool. _But I don't think they feel like this after the fact._

 _Screw what Cleo thinks. Screw her dad's 'stick with your Slytherin friends'._ Evie knew exactly what she wanted, always had, and he smelled like sugar and burning sparks.

But Alexei Varga was watching her from across the room. Alexei Varga had just seen Fred Weasley kiss her on the cheek. His brows dipped as he fought for Evie's attention, giving her a brief wave and a knowing wink. She faltered in her attempt to smile back.

Fred turned his head from Evie, frowning at the Durmstrang boys. "I'll go first."

He pulled the stopper off the top of the Aging Potion in a swift, violent motion. As he handed his twin back his own vial, George joked. "Bottoms up."

As soon as Fred had downed all of the liquid in a single gulp, George did exactly the same.

Evie snapped out of Alexei's gaze to stare down at two empty potion bottles that were being pressed into the palms of her hands, as the twins stood up and their House cheered.

"Wait, how much did you just take?" Pushing past the Gryffindors till she also stood at the edge of the golden Age Line with the twins, overlooking the flaming ornate Goblet, Evie snapped. "It was the whole thing for the last batch – but this one is more powerful!"

_They should have only taken a drop._

The potion had not immediately taken its full affects, with the twins merely growing a few more scratchy hairs at their chins. As they began to speak, their voices were a pitch more verbose. But there was no sudden shock of white hair, aging beards and cataract. _Not yet._

"I feel fine." Fred rested a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm what he had mistaken as fear. Nodding at his twin, using his other hand to ruffle Evie's monochrome hair, he added. "Alright handsome?"

She offered Lee Jordan the third and final vail. He shook his head, flashing white teeth. "I think I'll wait and see."

"Probably smart."

Fred started to strut around the edge of the Age Line. All eyes in the Entrance Hall, including the Durmstrang students, were hotly on him. There were whisperings from those who knew exactly what he was attempting. Bets being placed, often by fellow Gryffindors, on whether he would succeed.

With a final smirk at Evie, Fred jumped directly into the centre of the circle. He pulled a piece of parchment scratched with the words, 'Fred Weasley – Hogwarts', from within his robes. At this sign of obvious success, George jumped into the circle with his parchment similarly in hand.

Cleo, who also stood near the Goblet, hissed to anyone that would listen. "Show-offs!"

It was only as they tossed their names into the Goblet of Fire that they were thrown out. A sudden gust of wind wrapped up both of the twins and blew them near ten feet away from the Age Line, crashing them hard against the stone floor. Well, there ought to have been hard floor beneath them, but luckily they had landed on the display of pumpkins. _Thank Merlin for Halloween._

As Fred and George clambered to their feet, the Gryffindor in an uproar, their black and amber robes were coated in a fine spray of squash guts. This was not what brought on the sudden screams from the whole room. No, that could be accounted for in the twin's sudden resemblance to their Headmaster, sporting matching white beards.

"I did warn you." A deep, bemused voice called from the stairwell. The man himself, Albus Dumbledore, strode briskly into the room and took in the sight of the aged twins. "I suggest that you both go and see Madame Pomfrey, who is already dealing with a number of students who decided to age themselves up a little, too."

Evie bit her lip, watching as the twins looked from Albus Dumbledore to themselves and back again. Grins broke out across their faces as they doubled over laughing, suddenly clutching at their creaking backs, as the Gryffindors all joined in. The Slytherin, led by Cleo, smirked at their misfortune.

With the twins and Lee hurrying as fast as now aged knees would allow them to travel in the direction of the Hospital Wing, Evie set out to run after them. George and Fred both shot her pleading looks.

However, a soft voice held her back. "Miss Rothchild, a moment."

"Headmaster." Evie stopped at the edge of the stairs, standing directly before Albus Dumbledore.

They had rarely spoken, but Evie always thought that Dumbledore had kind eyes behind those half-moon spectacles. Bright, glimmering, they took in far more than his careful words would ever express. It was like he could see right through her.

"That's a very impressive potion you've got there." Dumbledore extended a slim, ringed finger to point at the purple vial still clutched in Evie's sweating palm. It had been intended for Lee Jordan, who had luckily avoided the twin's fate. "I fear if the twins had taken the correct dosage, they might have achieved their goal."

Dumbledore flicked his wrist, from wherever they had flown to, two charred pieces of parchment landed in his hand. _'Fred Weasley - Hogwarts'. 'George Weasley – Hogwarts'_. He let out a little cough and there was a distant sigh. With a fluttering, another un-burnt slip appeared. _'Lee Jordan – Hogwarts'._

Evie bit her lip, staring down at the points of Dumbledore's shoes poking out from beneath his sparkling saffron dress-robes. "Yes, Headmaster." _So he knew._

It was not just Cleobella that Evie had intended to save from entry into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Though, she should have known that Cleo could fend for herself. But the twins... well she had waited just a little too long to tell them about how potent the Aging Potion would be.

Technically, it was not her fault. If they hadn't been so Gryffindor about it, so intend on showing off in front of Durmstrang, it would have worked. _And Dumbledore knew that._

"You may wish to offer your services to Madame Pomphrey in brewing an Anti-Aging Potion." Dumbledore took the final vail from her hand, examining the dark green contents with a respectful and near impressed eye. "Though I must say, it is a shame Hogwarts must lose such fantastic beards."

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving a vote or commenting !
> 
> While I realise that is not (morally) great that Evie hoped that the twins would mess up taking the potion in order to keep them safe from the perils of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, what can I say, she is in Slytherin! (I'm kidding, but Evie certainly would do anything to protect her loved ones, like so many of the canon's famous Slytherin...) 


	11. Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evie Rothchild throws around bubbles and cutting insults.

**"Is it the end of an era?"**

**\- Lana del Rey,** **_When the World Was at War We Kept Dancing_ **

* * *

**E** **arly October, 1993. [Fifth Year]**

The Potions classroom was filled with the smell of harsh mint soap and the occasional dish-water bubble. With the three large sinks at the back of the room once steeped high with rusted, burnt and variously abused cauldrons – they now stood neatly stacked up on the slick counter, clean as they could be.

As Fred scrubbed down the final cauldron, a particularly nasty pewter beast, Evie surveyed their work. It had taken them well over two hours to wash all of the cauldrons, using only muggle methods, as Professor Snape had demanded. He had surely intended to make their final detention the cruellest, warning any future students from trying to use clever charms to avoid their punishments, but Evie had found this one almost... bearable.

Well, it was certainly more straightforward than any of their previous tasks. ' _Mend the textbooks_ ' – using only ridiculously adhesive Spellatape (they had ended up stuck to walls, the books and eventually each other.) ' _Catch all the spiders'_ (Evie hated spiders.) The strangest had definitely been the previous week, in which they had been forced to flick through thousands of pages worth of D.A.D.A textbooks in order to _'find werewolf diagrams'_ (neither of them could figure out what that had been for.)

It was definitely that the task was less spider-based this week, and had nothing to do with the fact that Evie was truly starting to enjoy the company of Fred Weasley.

"Looks like that's the last one done." Plonking down the particularly large and sud covered cauldron onto the counter-top, Fred grinned over at her.

Pointing with her wet rag, Evie shook her head. "There's still Newt Jelly on it. Look, right there."

"If you're such an expert, maybe you should have been scrubbing." Fred grabbed the cauldron and tossed it into the water, causing bubbles to erupt over the side of the sink and splash on his shoes. He frowned at Evie, like this was somehow her fault, before breaking out into a laugh.

She lent against the sink as he washed it, before she took it from his careful hands and dried it off. "No need, like you said, that's the last one. No more hunting down spiders, spell-o-taping old textbooks. Weasley, we're finally free."

"Oh what a relief." He chimed back sardonically, examining how pruny his hands had gotten in the sink. Professor Snape had 'forgotten' to give either of them gloves. "Now I'll only have to see your smarmy face in class."

Using her outrage as a distraction, Fred scooped up some of the soapy bubbles and tossed them directly at Evie. They landed in her long, dark and very well-manicured hair with a splattering sound. Her menacingly painted lips fell open as she swore at him.

' _Accio bubbles_!"

Immediately there was a hand-full of bubbles in her grasp and chucked them at Fred, who swore like a trooper and tried to jump out of the way. He missed and his grey and ruby robes were suddenly clinging to him.

" _Aguamenti_!" Fred had slipped his wand from his pocket and it was shooting a jet of crisp, cold water directly onto Evie. She screamed, only to cover her mouth in the hope that no one would think a duel was happening in the Potions classroom. _Well, a real duel._

Running to the sink, she tossed aside her wand and tried to scoop up some water. "What happened to not using any magic!"

She tossed it backwards onto Fred, who shut his eyes just in time as it spilled down his face in a bubbly, mint-flavoured waterfall. He stuck out his tongue and she knocked him in the ribs. "You started it!"

They both began to laugh. Evie tipped her head back and felt that girlish giggle escape her almost involuntarily, free and loose. As she watched Fred wipe bubbles from his face, standing barely a step away from her, she realised that he might have been somewhat handsome. In a roguish, Gryffindor sort of way.

"You're never like this in class."

His words broke the spell, the weight was back on her shoulders. "What?"

"If we were in class right now, you wouldn't be joining in, you'd be doing some sort of cleaning up charm." He gestured around them at the water-logged stone floor, the bubbles that covered the sinks and the tiled wall. Soapy spheres were floating all around.

Evie frowned, glancing at her wand on the counter. "Well, I am still doing one before Snape gets back. We don't need _another_ detention together." _Why was he saying this?_

"I just mean-" Fred paused, stepping closer to Evie as she leant up against the sink. He was quite a bit taller than she was, forcing her to look up into his azure eyes to see that he was struggling for what to say next. "When you're not around all the Slytherin, you're so different."

"You mean Cleo, right?" Evie sighed, wishing he would have said anything else. "I meant what I said down by the Black Lake, you don't know that much about Slytherin, not really. She, we can all be-"

He demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you trying to defend her now – I don't think Cleobella Parkinson needs anyone's help."

Evie could understand that look that flickered across his face – she had hurt him. Evie, Cleobella and the rest of the Slytherin that joined in with her teasing _. 'Blood traitor'_. It lingered in his thoughts just as much as it did Evie's, more so, for he didn't know that there was a different Cleo deep down. _Or at least, how she wished on every star that it was true._

"No, I'm just-"

What exactly was she supposed to say. A sorry wasn't enough. How could she possibly explain that Cleo had been a lifeline in her darkest hours, her first friend, a safety net. Even if she was cruel, even if she would hate her if she knew the truth, Cleo loved Evie more fiercely than anyone else. It was selfish, it was horrible sometimes, but it was love.

Evie said softly. "She's my cousin, she's basically my sister."

"But you don't have to listen to everything that she says!" Fred snapped back, a shaking hand on his forehead. All fired up like this, he was a burning sun. "You don't have to act like you're her shadow or that she's your-"

"What, my twin?"

Evie stepped back from him, slipping her wand up her sleeve. She didn't need to be hearing this from some Gryffindor that didn't know anything about her. Evie already knew she was a selfish coward. But what choice did she really have?

"That's not what I was going to say." The fire was sapped from him, leaking out into the cold stone floor. He was once again just a boy in damp robes with a spark in his eyes and a question on his lips. "When we're in class, you act like I'm your enemy. But the minute we're alone, you change. That's all I'm saying."

_But that was the game, wasn't it?_

To the outside world, to the Slytherin and the Gryffindor, nothing had changed between Fred and Evie in the past month. If anything, from the fact that they interacted with each other in any way, it had seemingly gotten worse. Cleo certainly thought it so, bemoaning every mention of the Weasley's as a plague.

Evie turned back to him, suddenly beneath his amber glow once more, her voice sure. "You're not my enemy."

"Oh yeah? What am I then?"

If she stood up on her tiptoes, she could reach his lips. The thought was fleeting and ridiculous, they stared fiercely into each other's eyes. It was no longer just mint soap she could smell, but something akin to fireworks. _Like burning, blistering magic...and Honeydukes sweets._

As he looked down at her, Evie stuck her hands behind her back and grabbed some of the remaining bubbles from the sink. She reached up and shoved them into the red curls of his hair, he yelped. "An idiot with soap suds in his hair." _What else was he expecting her to say?_

With Fred distracted from this further watery attack, Evie flicked her wand. " _Scourgify_."

They both watched as the water rose up in jets from the pools on the floor, hurled itself down the drain and dragged the last of the soap suds with it. Now the sinks were shining, the row of cauldrons glistening in the candlelight of the classroom, their robes dry and even the countertops were more clean than Evie had ever seen them. There was nothing left for them to do, no reason for them to linger their together.

Fred said quietly, realising that neither of them had spoken. "I need to get back to the common room."

Of course, he did. In all likelihood he was cooking up some devious plot to blow up a toilet stall, convince Peeves the Poltergeist to take up a very loud musical instrument or anything else that would cause chaos – entertaining, near ridiculous chaos. Evie had no reason to wish that they had a few more cauldrons left to scrub, none at all.

"Yeah, same."

Slipping out into the corridor, there was an awkward moment in which Evie watched Fred consider his path. He glanced at the stairwell that would lead him up into the Entrance Hall, from which he could make the long climb to Gryffindor Tower. Then he turned his head, eyes landing on the tapestry lined hall that would lead to the Slytherin Common Room. Shrugging his broad shoulders with that ginger hair dripping, he chose the latter.

Evie did not speak as he accompanied her to the bare piece of wall that hid the Common Room. Undoubtedly, he knew exactly were to lead her given that he was so fond of leaving unpleasant pranks directly at their door. Swamp charms. Cupcakes laced with Babbling Beverage. And obviously, dungbombs.

"Since we're not enemies anymore." Fred began, leaning against a tapestry decorated with a roaring lion entangled with a giant snake, who seemed to be strangling the noble beast. "I want to know one thing before we call a truce."

"A truce? I thought Gryffindors didn't do things like that." _They were too proud._

"This is an exception." He stuck his thumbs in the loops of his trousers, looking at her through his dark lashes. "I want to know... I want to know why you really punched Rowle. I saw him in the corridor a few weeks ago, that rim around his eye didn't come from any _knockback jinx_ , no matter what he claims."

Evie held her breath, glancing around the hall. There was no Slytherin in sight, no Cleo or Luc lurking in the shadows. It was near impossible to make out any words through the thick stone walls of the Common Room, even if you had your ear pressed to the enchanted door.

But she couldn't tell him. It was dangerous, it was stupid. He had eyes like the moment of clarity in the heat of the storm, cerulean and torrential, and they were piercing into her.

"He called a First-Year a Mudblood so I punched him in the face. Happy now, no more dungbombs outside the Common Room?"

 _And then he called me a half-breed,_ but Evie could not even speak it, _you've probably heard that part of the story._ There was a sizzling on the tip of her tongue, a pain in her throat – the remnant of a long-held promise.

She had never actually been forced to explain the situation to anyone, not even Cleo. As soon as she punched him and he ran off, clutching at his eye and screaming bloody murder, the whole school had heard Rowle's version of the story. He told everyone that Evie had hexed him, left his eye swollen and his dignity in tatters. Cleo had hexed him again upon hearing that he had called Evie a 'half-breed'. In all fairness, she had relished the relief of not having to try and explain it. Evie wasn't sure the words could even pass her lips. It was better that everyone thought she had been so offended by the question of her purity that she had turned savage, after all, that was what any true pureblood would do.

_But Fred Weasley had not believed it._

A soft smile broke across his face, a dimple appearing on his freckled cheek. Though she ought to have felt afraid, and later Evie knew she would regret that slip up, there was something about his honest relief that made her heart swell.

Pink rose in his cheeks, his eyes darted to the hidden entrance. "How about the next time we plan on releasing a dungbomb outside your lovely, frantically chilly Common Room, I try and warn you first?"

From one of the twins, from any Gryffindor, this was quite a vow. Evie wrapped her pinkie around his, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand against hers. "Deal."

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**Early November, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

A week had passed since 'the beard incident.'

Upon reaching the Hospital Wing, they had been greeted by a giggling Madame Pomfrey and a furious Professor McGonagall – who became even more red in the face when she learnt of Dumbledore's compliments to the twin's newfound and impressively snowy manes. She took ten House points from each of the tight-lipped, creaky kneed old gentleman before tossing in a detention for 'good measure'.

The Head of Gryffindor had then turned to Evie, who was supporting Fred while Lee Jordan struggled to keep the hump-spined George on his feet and asked her how exactly the twins came across such a potent Aging Potion. For her confession, Evie was told that she would have to share in the twins detention, but could avoid the loss of House points if she brewed the antidote for Madame Pomfrey.

If it had been Snape, he either would have dismissed her with a mere nod (refusing to let slip that he was impressed), or it would have been another month of detention. After a year with the twins, Evie considered McGonagall's singular evening of polishing old trophies a result.

Or at least she had at the time. When it was over and she limped back to the Common Room, the musky smell of polish in her nose and arms aching, she wasn't quite so grateful.

Evie spoke to herself as she dipped back into the Slytherin Common Room, hand massaging the crick in her neck. The twins, upon hearing that she would be punished for helping them, swore they would buy her the whole of _Honeydukes_.

"No _Chocolate Frogs_ or _Peppermint Toad_ was worth that."

The Slytherin Common Room was packed with students, not unexpected given that it was still rather early into Friday's night. Third years were crowding as close as they could get to the fireplace, still guarded by Electra Gaunt and her Seventh-Year friends, in order to plan out their trip to Hogsmeade the following morning. Oddly, Cleo was no-where to be seen in the gaggle of well-dressed older students who lazily flicked through magazines and sipped from elegant crystal glasses, which Evie suspected didn't contain plain old butter beer.

Waving a brief and tired hello to Safiya and Ara, who had attempted to beckon her over to their game of gobstoppers, Evie sadly shook her head. She then went straight in the direction of the adjoining corridor and her awaiting four-poster bed.

There was no one in the dormitory, so she pulled on a silk nightgown and thick cardigan before slipping under the silver coverlet. The curtain's that let in the glow of the Black Lake's merky underside were still open, but Evie couldn't be bothered to get up. Salazar's Missing Toe, was she exhausted.

"Where have you been?"

The door to the dormitory slammed open and Evie did not need to open her eye's to know who's lofty voice was addressing her. Perhaps if she pulled the covers over her head and pretended to be asleep, or dead, Cleo would go away. "We were supposed to be having a study session with Luc at the library, remember? But instead I hear from 'Lectra that she just saw you skulking off to bed. You know that Luc is almost certainly going to _fail_ her Transfigurations prelim, then what will her Grandmother say?"

Evie shot up in bed, shaken from her near sleep by the terrifying thought of Brunhilda Bulstrode Carrow. _Shit._

"I had detention." Evie rubbed at her eyes, showing Cleo the stains of polish that she had failed to properly wash off her wrists. "So Brunhilda is just going to have to live."

Cleo was not at all impressed by this reply, doing a startlingly good job of impersonating Luc's grandmother with her hand on her hip and fury burning in her copper eyes. So Evie added. "Look, I swear I'll help her after Hogsmeade tomorrow, I totally forgot. Tell Luc I'm sorry."

"No need." Cleo had been waiting to launch this counterattack, stepping down into the dormitory so she loomed like a spectre at the edge of Evie's bed. "After all, I did get an Outstanding. I just wanted to check that you weren't really sneaking off with Weasley again... though I suppose detention is as good a place as any."

 _Of course._ Ever since Luc or one of the other Slytherin, for many had seen it, had told Cleo about how Fred kissed her on the cheek, Cleo had been more possessive and paranoid than usual. She never wanted Evie out of her sight, insisting that she stay with her in the Common Room or help her spy on the comings and goings at the Durmstrang ship. Anything that would keep her away from Fred Weasley.

"Look, there is nothing going on with Fred. I told you that already." Evie sat up in her bed, voice snippy. "We're just friends and it was just detention, Cleo!"

Fiddling with the bed's draping curtain, her long vermillion nails like talons, Cleo hissed under her breath while obscured. "Friends with a _blood traitor_."

"What is wrong with you, you sound like your mum?" Evie picked up one of the over-stuffed velvet cushions and threw it at Cleo's head. "Fred is just as much a pureblood as you are, not that it should be that big a deal. We aren't exactly getting married – we were only polishing trophies! I told you last year that you were going to have to get over the fact that we are – _friends_ – now."

Having caught the pillow, Cleo's face was a storm. In a shrill voice, she raised her chin and let her dark hair fall behind her shoulders. "They're barely purebloods! And you know what, Mummy is right about the Weasley's! 'Magic blood thinner than water'".

Evie was out of bed now, her feet freezing on the stone slaps of the dormitory floor. She pointed a finger at her cousin, her entire body shaking with fury. _How dare she!_ "I don't give a shit what your mother has to say, Cleo."

It was as if Evangeline Parkinson was suddenly in the room with them, looming between her two favourite relatives in her cuttingly modern fashion and coated in thousands of galleons worth of family heirlooms. If she knew about Fred, her Aunt would lecture her to hell and back in that honeyed voice of hers, all the while conspiring against her.

But she wasn't really there, and Cleo seemed to be doing the job for her, mirroring what ought to have been her mother's horrified expression.

"She talks a lot of rubbish and you know it. I know you don't always agree with her." Evie moved to take Cleo's hand. "You're better than that."

Cleo moved out of her embrace, eye's flaring as she snapped. "And you're better than hanging out with some Gryffindor who's only ever going to bring you trouble. Do you really want everyone in school thinking you're some half-breed bastard again, if you keep hanging out with him, you'll be bringing it upon yourself."

Evie froze. "Shut up – just _shut up_!"

In in instant, Cleo seemed to realise that she had gone too far. She reached for Evie's outstretched hand only to flinch as Evie shoved her away.

Her voice was soft as she tried to coax Evie into turning around, facing her. "I'm only saying it because other people are – again, Evie! What if Durmstrang were to find out that..."

 _Oh yes_. This was why Cleo was so upset – it wasn't about Fred, not really. It was always about Evie.

This was what mattered to Cleobella, to the Parkinson's, to every member of the Sacred 29 who hoarded their blood purity like Dragon's did gold. It was a mark on their reputation, a blemish on the family name, to even have rumours spinning around that one of your own was anything less than perfect _. If only she knew!_

"Because that's what you care about – making sure my hanging out with a 'blood traitor' doesn't make me look any more like a..." Evie couldn't force the words out, no matter how hard she tried. "Makes _you_ look anything less than pristine!"

 _'It wouldn't do to have a half-breed in the family',_ Evangeline Parkinson had often touted the phrase at family dinner parties, chiding those who brought shame on their families through 'diluting' their magic. ' _That's one step away from a Mudblood.'_

"I'm looking out for you." Cleo pleaded. She appeared gentle now, like a small china doll with those huge champagne eyes. _But Evie knew better._

"No, you're looking out for yourself." The words came out from beneath that perfect mask of Evie's, full of poison and rage. She had to stop herself from grabbing her cousin by the shoulder and desperately shaking some sense, some fear, into her. "And you're only angry with Freddie all of a sudden because Dimitri Rasputin won't give you the time of day. At least I've spoken with Alexei."

Coldly, Cleo whispered. "I can't believe that you just said that."

 _Neither could Evie._ Pain swept across Cleo's face like a storm through the Forbidden Forest, dark and crushing. She turned immediately to the stairs and thundered up them, pulling open the door to the corridor with spiteful force. "I was only trying to help!"

Evie shouted after her, wiping her eyes. "Don't you storm off – I'm storming off!" 

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Thank you for reading - please consider leaving a vote or comment!
> 
> As I (really really) hope you've picked up, Evie isn't exactly who she says she is. In the following chapter *wink* we might just have to delve into that.


	12. The Pureblood and the Muggleborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which memories can speak.

**"** **And when we come back we'll be dressed in black/**  
 **And you'll scream my name aloud/**  
 **And we won't eat and we won't sleep/**  
 **We'll drag bodies from the ground."**

**Florence and the Machine, 'Spectrum'**

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**E** **arly November, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

It had been a mistake to not grab her slippers, a terrible mistake. Padding along the stone and oak corridors in her bare feet, Evie could feel a chill creeping up her spine and down the slim expanse of her milky arms. In just a silk nightgown, cuffed with lace and certainly not her own, along with a soft grey cardigan, she suffered with every second out in the night-time halls of Hogwarts.

But she was not going back through the Common Room - not when she would see Cleo there, lording her warm seat by the fire and tearing through copies of _Greengrass_ without truly taking in a word. No, Evie simply refused.

Slinking up the stairs, avoiding students and most importantly the caretaker, her mind was now firmly set on escaping to the Portrait Gallery. She often visited it in the evenings, even occasionally in the dead of the night, to take in its displays of enchanted photographs and ever altering portraits. Most importantly, it wasn't so chilly and due to many of the ancient wizards depicted having a particular hatred for Squibs in 'their castle', it was rarely checked by Filch.

Reaching the third floor and sprinting through the trophy room where she had just been an hour before, scrubbing down old House Cups with the twins, Evie touched her wand to the golden lion-carved knockers. " _Alohomara_."

The heavy doors swung open to reveal a large room painted in deepest wine, adorned with all manner of frames. The portraits were boxed in ornate gold, tight-lipped wizards and witches in jewel-toned cloaks watched Evie sweep into the room, used to their familiar visitor. The photographs had all manner of frames - some worn with age, others going back as little as a decade. As she reached the furthest corner and tucked her cold feet beneath her legs on the leather-chaise lounge, Evie found what she was looking for.

On a corner piece of wall, between panelling and a rather strange portrait of a haggard old witch in a feathery hat, lay the displayed photographs of all of Slytherin's Prefects. Nestled among the sepia row of older photographs was 1973.

"It must have been some year." Evie whispered to herself, leaning towards the glass encased memory. "The hairstyles are certainly...interesting."

Among the rows of Slytherin Prefects stood a familiar bright-eyed man with once chestnut hair and a perfectly pristine tie. Though he could not speak, and merely glanced at her through the glass, Evie felt his glinting gaze warning her to 'get back to her bed'. Once, Andrew Rothchild had been rather handsome. _He was barely eighteen there_. It explained why so many of the girls in the picture were sneaking glances at the dashing young man. But he didn't look at any of them, not when he had the most beautiful girl on his arm.

Evie always thought her mother looked just like Cleo. _Rosalind Parkinson_. She had that same long ebony hair, keen dark eyes and delicate bone structure. But everything about her radiated softness, or at least Evie certainly imagined it so. She smiled up at Evie's father, her soon to be husband, with the warmest look in her eyes. It was always hard to imagine her serving Voldemort. It didn't fit with the perfect picture.

A row of Slytherin along, for she was in the year below, and wearing a very eye-catching scarf and pearl earrings, was Evangeline Parkinson. She was small, all angles and pouty lips - she had not yet developed her staple trait of wearing a lot of lipstick. Evangeline was shooting foul looks at her older sister and the smiling Andrew, boldly claiming her disapproval of what was at the time a rather new relationship _. It never really got the chance to last._

Something ached in Evie's chest, she wished she could slip inside of that captured moment. She wanted to speak to them all more than anything - to have a conversation with her mother, to hear her father laugh in that full hearted way that was so rare. Merlin, she would even take the chance to chat with her much younger Aunt.

"Hi." She said to them all, though they only glanced out of the frame and continued their enchanted actions from decades long past. "I wanted to talk about something."

Only when entirely alone could she speak all that was restricted by the curse of being a Secondary Secret-Keeper. As an eleven-year-old eager to attend Hogwarts, Evie had not been aware at the time just how strictly she would be bound. It was her father, not Evie, that possessed the ability to divulge the secret. Sometimes, it felt like even her thoughts were not her own.

"I wanted to say it to you all, because I can." It was silly, near laughable that she was talking to a moving picture in a hushed voice, but not even the portraits could be allowed to hear her. Otherwise, the spell would force her into silence. "But I can't protect my reputation from everything. So I'm friends with what your daughter would, did, call a blood traitor. Perhaps you would have said the same mum, back then."

It was almost as though Rosalind Parkinson tilted her head, attention fully captured. Evie was sure of it. Then she turned to Andrew, kissed him on the cheek and continued their whispers.

Evie's hands balled into fists, knuckles white. "Cleo's mad at me because their must be rumours going around that I'm a... half-blood again. Just because I hang out with Freddie."

Even that was difficult to get out. Not because of the spell, simply due to the fact that Evie never said it aloud. Not even to her father, not if she could help it. "But if she knew I was something much worse..."

Digging her hands so hard into her palms that she drew blood, Evie looked at the crimson leaking down her wrists. "Mudblood. Muggleborn. Not a Rothchild, not really."

Her namesake snapped her view to the girl in the Gallery, surely just staring down the photographer. Her father had explained upon Evie first asking about the portrait that Evangeline had been angry - her sister, surely swayed by her fiancé, had made a terrible decision that would likely hinder their chances of rising in the ranks of the Dark Lord. In the near height of the wizarding war, she and her secret-fiancé had accepted jobs in the Ministry of Magic as Aurors.

Of course, the Ministry assumed that Andrew and Rosalind were turn-coats. Suspicion did linger, led by the ever-paranoid Alistair Moody, but no one had called them out for what they really were. Spies for Lord Voldemort - nestled within the heart of the fight, climbing their way up the ranks, two Slytherin purebloods that leaked all that they knew to the Death Eaters.

Her father swore that they had no choice. It was not muggleborn versus pureblood, Lord Voldemort versus the Ministry. No, it was family - and they did not have another option.

It was only Evangeline that feared her sister, her soft, golden-hearted sister might have been led astray by Andrew and his dreams of their shared careers as Aurors. After all, how could a Dark Wizard catch a Dark Wizard?

_Really she was foolish_ , Evie thought. _Everyone knew that no Parkinson could be told what to do._

Leaving Hogwarts, they followed the Dark Lord's bidding just like everyone else - their thoughts were invaded by his cunning magic, every scrap of information they knew about the Ministry taken. Voldemort could not allow his most trusted resource to go unchecked. He kept them under a watchful eye but did not immediately offer them the emblem of his trust, the Dark Mark.

It was in that single glimmer of opportunity that Rosalind planned her revolt - it was not much, but if He knew, there would have been hell to pay.

Her time in the Ministry had shown her just what the Death Eaters intended to do to the world, what destruction they would cause - and Rosalind could not stop it, Evie wasn't entirely sure she had wanted to. But she had tried to keep herself and her family from getting any more involved.

Rosalind, dragging Andrew along, swore to the Dark Lord that she would tell him all that she knew. But she could not divulge secrets that she was unaware of... in retrospect, they were surely terrible Aurors and even worse spies. It was a revolution that involved taking up a lot of odd jobs, paper shuffling and desk work.

But on a sleepy May night when two young Aurors had been asked by both the Ministry and the Death Eaters to comb over the scene of recent violence - the murder of a Muggle family, a Dark Mark lingering over a home in the outskirts of Glasgow - they had found themselves forced into a choice. In that moment, Rosalind and Andrew had taken a stand against Voldemort, shrugging off years of selfish fear and cowardice - it had not been a duel, or even the sight of cooling, wide-eyed corpses that had turned them.

No, it had been the cry of a baby.

Or at least when her father had offered her the briefest glimpse in his memory of that night, using the pensive in his private and well-guarded study, that was what he had sworn. As it replayed so often in her nightmares, her honeyed daydreams, even in the back of her mind with every whisper about her purity, Evie had taken to embellishing the cold summer tale.

It felt like one of her own memories - fading and dark, like pieces of film burning away over a projector.

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**29th May, 1978. [The First Wizarding War]**

The coiled snake of smoke and venom clung to the rising sky of dawn over Glasgow. It had been placed above the two-story house the night before, from its deterioration, some time around midnight.

_Death eaters always strike at midnight,_ Andrew Rothchild had thought to himself as he pointed his wand into the sky and silently uttered the counter-curse.

For whatever reason, it had only been the red-brick house at the end of the street they had attacked this time. Perhaps they intended to come back, or the Dark Lord had called them off on some greater mission. Either way, Andrew merely smoothed his tie beneath his suit-like uniform and sighed. _It least there would be less paper work._

This would no doubt disappoint Rosalind, who was sneaking out of a neighbouring bungalow as he contemplated it all to himself. She seemed to love paperwork, stacks and stacks of it, as it meant they would never have to venture out into the field. Even better, it meant that her report to Bellatrix Lestrange could be brief and to the point, with no need for the Dark Lord to hear anything of the rather newly formed Rothchild family. _'Out of sight, out of mind - that's the whole point Andy.'_

It was not that Andrew Rothchild longed to be under the apprenticeship of Alistair Moody like all the other great young Auror's in their office - but his boyhood dream certainly hadn't been all about sorting out muggle witnesses and writing up crime reports. Before he had fully understood that to capture Dark Wizards meant he would be imprisoning members of his own family, he had imagined Aurorship as duelling and daring escapes.

"Are you about asleep?" Rosalind caught him by the waist, shaking him a little. He smiled down onto the top of her dark crown as she let out a yawn. "I'm tired too, but almost done. They seem to be the only house that heard anything - unless your lot did?"

"No." He shook his head, all the muggles he had coaxed into offering their account of the night had assumed it was some sort of 'domestic'. "Nothing."

"That just leaves the house." Rosalind's bronze eyes swept to the red-bricked house, which until moments ago, had born the sign that every wizard in Europe was wise enough to fear. "We should probably..."

He finished for her, slipping his hand into hers. "Go in."

It was only when Alistair Moody was completely out of options that he resorted to his young Slytherin recruits - Rosalind was grateful for this. If his favourites hadn't been off working some high profile case involving the Lestranges, they surely would have been snuck in their bed and dreaming of even more rolls of parchment and Moody's all-seeing eyes leering as he tossed them more reports. They certainly wouldn't have been tasked with writing them.

The door to the house was ajar, the inlayed window smashed with glass spread out like a mosaic in the entrance. Two bodies were lying on the floor by the foot of the stairs, tied with shimmering rope and their eye's wide and unblinking. A man and a woman, no older than Andrew and Rosalind. Those perfect 'o's on their lips were a familiar sight. They had died screaming.

He watched his wife shudder, jotting something down on her parchment.

"The muggle census was correct. Only two occupants, we can call in the...clean-up squad at the Office. There doesn't seem to be anything of interest here - though I put down about it being the only home on the street with the Mark - but other than that." Rosalind was pointedly avoiding looking at the muggle couple, she always did.

Both of them shared in the same thought, their bodies drawn tightly, and vision blurred. _Did they know the Death Eaters who had used these muggles like playthings? Could it have been his uncle Carlisle, or Rosalind's brother-in-law?_

It was not a polite topic of conversation that would ever come up during a family dinner party - they dined with Death Eaters on fine china and drunk from crystal goblets as the world burned. It was certainly not something they would dare to ask about in their next meeting with Him.

No, Andrew shook his head, they would make themselves forget all about it. One more statistic in a war that had taken so many. It was not for them to intervene - after all, they were little better than those under the imperious curse. _That's what he told Rosy when she cried at night. 'What choice do we have?'_

"What was that?" She asked him. "Don't you hear it?"

Andrew looked to the muggle couple, pondering if perhaps the Death Eaters had left in such a hurry that one of them was still alive. As Lestrange had instructed, that meant the task would fall to them. What Moody called crime reporting, Bellatrix called removing obstacles.

"Are you alright?" He touched her gently on the shoulder, aware that she too was staring at the muggles. All these late-night odd jobs, they just needed some sleep. It would make it easier to deal with all of it.

She shoved him off. "I'm fine - be quiet and listen?"

Then he heard it. Faint, as weak as first daybreak, a cry. _A baby_.

His hand was back on Rosalind's shoulder in an instant, holding her back from running up the short flight of stairs and deeper into the house. _Now they truly would have to tell the Dark Lord they found a survivor._

"Just leave." He slipped his wand into the hot palm of his shaking hand. "If we leave right now-"

Her voice was definite. "I am not leaving."

Rosalind looked up at him, still the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. That burning in her eyes, that passionate curl of her soft lip - he understood how wars could be fought over woman. For her, he had turned from fate, taken up desk work over duelling. Fought his way out of taking the Mark.

"Don't you see, Moody was _meant_ to send us out this morning?" As she spoke in that sure, vicious voice, the baby cried once again. "We have to help."

Perhaps this was a twisted way that his own failure to give her a child would be punished. He could give her grand mansions, access to his Gringott vault, all the jewels the Rothchild family owned - but that was not what she wanted. Rosalind wanted a child.

"Moody wants to taunt us, Rosy. He probably knew there was a survivor somehow, his eyes are everywhere." The Auror wanted to see if they would snap, trip up, get caught. Then he could deliver two more Death Eaters to Azkaban. "If you go up those stairs and find something, He will see it. The Dark Lord will know."

It wasn't as if they could keep the child, the Aurors would have them dump it on the steps of some muggle Orphanage. If they were truly loyal to the Dark Lord, something much worse would be expected of them.If not...torture, treason, so that Rosalind could hold a baby, wipe away its tears. He couldn't allow it.

She ran up the stairs before he could beg her to stop. Andrew did the same thing he had been doing since the day that she smiled at him in NEWT Potions and knew he would follow her to the ends of the earth.

The muggles must have been in their beds before the attack began. No electric light bloomed in their overhead glass beacons, the polyester curtains tightly drawn in the upper hallway. As Andrew stepped lightly on the worn carpet, he followed a distant glowing, like a star, faint on the horizon. _What is that?_

"Andrew, come in here and look." His wife whispered from the final door at the end of the hall. "Please." In following her command, he felt faint.

If he had been smart, if he had just let the Sorting Hat place him in Ravenclaw like it had insisted and he had learned to purely follow his reason, he would not have been watching his wife cradling the smallest muggle baby he had ever seen. The room did not look like a nursery, with a strange glass box for a cradle and wires coating the pastel walls, it reminded him of St. Mungos. Above his wife, who stood in the centre of the room, he found the source of the light.

A mobile was floating. Soft glowing stars, a fabric moon imbued with light and the perfect glass spheres of the Milky Way. In a wizard child's nursery this enchanted object would have been entirely commonplace, but there were strings looping it to the ceiling and as Rosalind turned and presented him with the bundle of blankets, the tiny hand was outstretched to the stars.

"I've never seen magic in this young a child." His voice sounded distant, even to his own ears. Andrew refused to hold the baby. "It's a... muggleborn."

He used the word carefully, so used to a much sharper phrase. The baby reached out its tiny little fingers, as frail as lace, to the shocked wizard. In response, the orbs of the mobile fell limply on their strings and the light dimmed. The child was focused on something else.

" _She_ is mine." Rosalind said simply. "She can't be more than a week old. They must have kept her in the glass cradle _thing_ because she is still so delicate, we'll have to bring it with us, or see if we could enchant an alternative."

"You can't, what will the Ministry say...what about the Dark Lord, your sister." At the mention of Evangeline, Rosalind's eyes snapped up in alarm. What of her sister, who so desperately wished for their family to grow closer to the Dark Lord, for Rosalind to finally receive the Mark and despised Andrew for escaping it? "What will she say when you suddenly have a child!"

Once Rosalind had made up her mind, like any Parkinson, there was no changing it.

"I don't care. Just- get rid of it, all of it." She gestured around at the muggle nursery, but her eyes remained firmly on the bundle of soft pink blanket and the tiny little fist, still reaching out. "We saw nothing here, that is all anyone will ever know. Smouldering ash and a Dark Mark, two dead muggles. The Death Eaters had their fun."

This was insane, utterly insane. Perhaps years' worth of paperwork and hiding from Alistair Moody had finally led Rosalind to snap. Andrew had to reason with her.

"And when the Dark Lord pries into our minds again, when everyone comes asking questions?" _How could it possibly work, would they just turn themselves from the Dark Lord, from the pressure of their families, all to protect a child?_ It was ludicrous.

Rosalind looked ready to snap at him, but kept her voice measured. "I will figure it out - we will figure it out."

He found himself looking down at the blankets, really looking. The baby was truly tiny, with moon white skin and a dimpled face. Giant grey eyes, near silver, stared out at Andrew with too much wisdom. _Had she heard it all, the attack? Was the mobile some sort of lashing out of her magic, when fearful and alone?_ He found himself gently touching the crown of the infant's head, baring a spark of dark hair _. Just like Rosalind._

Andrew spoke reluctantly, letting the child hold his finger. "You're insane."

"But you love me, and you know that its time that we made a choice."

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**Early November, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

Tears were spilling from Evie's eyes, running down the bloodied lines of her hands and splattering on the oak floor of the Gallery. She was no longer sure if she was crying over Cleo, her Aunt's hateful eyes, the smiles of her father and mother... or just all of it.

They had sacrificed so much for her, risked their life's in turning from the Dark Lord. _And she was there, crying, over the same old thing_. But was it fear, or anger that plagued her?

After finding her as the lone survivor of the Death Eater attack that night, taking her to their home in the Borders, shutters had been drawn and the world locked out. The Rothchild family finally had a baby - but she was frail, in need of constant attention, or so they said.

They rarely reported to the Death Eaters, or even to Alistair Moody, avoiding their work for as long as they could. It was then the rumours were born. Perhaps it had started in the Auror office, or the dinner table of some Death Eaters.

They said that Andrew Rothchild had had an affair, a bastard child had been left on his doorstep by the mother. A half-breed. His own wife was distraught, locking herself away, refusing to talk with even her most beloved sister.

This had spiralled. They soon looked to the stele eyed, tight lipped Andrew Rothchild on his rare appearances at the Ministry and whispered. _Or perhaps he kept his wife under the imperius curse, after all, he was as good as a Death Eater._

While her father and mother trained tirelessly in occlumency, learned to shield their minds from the Dark Lord, the rumours only spread. When they finally did return to their posts - seemingly spies once again - Andrew Rothchild had a reputation for cruelty. It had been useful, kept everyone but Moody off his back as he worked to become a rear Auror, while seeming all the while the perfect Death Eater.

Her mother had suffered for it. Everyone pitied Rosalind, believed her tied up in some broken marriage with a baby that was not her own. Even her own sister, with her family, stayed far away from Rosalind and her shame. While Evie's aunt knew better than to give credence to the rumours, she could not have a mark on her name if she was ever going to claw her way up in the ranks. It was in the months after Rosalind's death that Evangeline Parkinson had demanded to see the last remnant of her sister in this world, a child named after her, now three years old.

"So its not Fred's fault that there are rumours." Evie wiped her tears, laughing a little at the glassy eyed Gallery. "The whole wide wizarding world suspected me once."

In time it had died down, it always did. Just not completely _. "Half-breed bitch."_ Rowle's words echoed in her ears.

In the wake of the war, in the ruins of their dreams of world domination, pureblood families looked to the widowed Mr. Rothchild and his daughter and felt pity. They had known loss as well. When the paranoid father would let himself and his daughter leave their house, visiting relatives for the first time in years, they all thought the same. _They knew what a family in pain looked like._

Rosalind and Andrew smiled out at Evie, happy and in love within that relic of their lost life together. Long before they had to deal with death, war and mudblood babies.

A familiar voice said softly. "Are you okay?"

Rubbing at her eyes with the sleeves of her silk robe, Evie looked up at Fred Weasley. "What are you doing in here?"

He was standing to the side of the chaise-lounge, with one hand rubbing at his neck he shifted on his feet and attempted to focus on the photographs that lined the wall. Evie was suddenly immensely aware that she was wearing a very thin night-gown. So were a few of the portraits, who tutted at them.

"I heard crying. I was out on a wander." Fred stuck his hands in his trouser pockets, still dressed in his uniform. He had avoided looking at Evie, but now his indigo eyes were on her. "I used to see you in here sometimes... before I gave away the Map."

This was odd. The twins had given the legendary Marauders Map, which they swore had taught them all they knew, to Harry Potter near the start of there Fifth Year. Which meant Fred had been checking Evie's location on the Map long before they were truly friends. _Weeks before the truce._

"I'm not crying." Evie wiped her red rimmed eyes, eyeliner slipping down her face and mixing with the bloodied crescents on her palms. "I'm not."

Fred shrugged, sitting down next to her and staring at the photographs. "Alright, you're not crying."

She lent her head on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of sugar and smoke. He was wearing one of those knitted jumper with an 'F' on it, this one as amber as his hair. Evie shivered, pressing her cheek against it. _Hold me_. She wanted to whisper. _Just for a moment._

" _Accio_ tissue." Suddenly there was something akin to cotton wiping at her hands. Fred didn't say a word about the blood from where she had dug in her nails, he simply pulled his jumper over his head and handed it to her. "Here."

Evie put it on, leaning back into his embrace. He held her tightly, but not as though she was glass or fine china. No, she was silver moonlight and he feared she might slip through his fingers.

Evie breathed into his chest. "Thanks." _He always knows exactly what I need, but not want._

"Is that your mum then? Sorry, I know-" Fred was leaning his chin on the top of her head, looking over her to the photographs on the wall. He seemed to regret his words almost instantly, as Evie turned from his arms and followed his eyes.

_I know what happened to her_ , he was going to say. _Everyone does._

That was why the Death Eaters had backed off after the war, why pureblood families were suddenly so willing to welcome the Rothchild family back into the fold. When Rosalind Parkinson was killed in a random attack, it meant that the Rothchild family line was on the edge of disaster. Andrew Rothchild would never remarry, not after losing his childhood sweetheart (who he was so crazy about they still suspected she had been kept at his side by the imperius curse.) If they hadn't gotten over their gossiping, it would have spelled the end of the Sacred 29.

Fred said gently. "She looks like you."

Evie tilted her head, trying to see it. They had that same dark hair, sharp cheekbones and milky skin. It was that resemblance, an uncanny twist of fate, which had lessoned the rumours. But when Evie looked at her mother, once again she did not see herself in those hazel eyes. She saw Cleo. _Pureblood. Slytherin. Legitimate._

"But your eyes are..." She glanced up at Fred with those moonlit silver eyes, her hand grasping at the soft cotton of his undershirt. "Different."

She leant into him, her mouth upturned to his embrace. _Kiss me._ Every part of her body screamed. _Kiss me, Fred._ His arms were on her back, pulling her in with tender care. There lips were inches apart, she was on his lap, when there was a tutting from a nearby portrait.

The old witch in the feathery hat did not look at all pleased with the pair of them, folding her arms crossly over her chest and doing a rather good impression of Professor McGonagall. Evie flushed scarlet, leaning back against Fred's chest in an attempt to hide her face. _What just happened?_

"And the guy with your mum is..." Fred spoke to ease the sudden tension, his body pulled as tightly as a bow string.

Evie snorted, glancing over at Andrew Rothchild. "The guy who looks like he's giving you daggers? That's my dad."

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Thank you all for reading!
> 
> I have trouble explaining in dialogue complex events from the past, therefore, I gave Evie that reflection on the memory she saw in her father's pensive. But don't worry, I wont be weighing down the story with any more exposition heavy flashbacks!
> 
> Additionally, based on the surprised/ confused response this chapter got on my Wattpad account, I would like to reiterate that Evie is a MUGGLEBORN adopted into the Rothchild family. I hope this chapter has cleared up some of the things I've been hinting to since the prologue (which takes place after Evie's father tells her the truth for the first time). x


	13. Roaming Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mad Eye sees all.

" **And black moons in those eyes of hers/**  
 **Made more sense to me/**  
 **Heavy persuasion [...]**  
 **And she called to me/**  
 **And so I followed/**  
 **As friends often do.**  
 **I cared not for love nor money,** **I** **think she knew."**

**Fleetwood Mac, 'Sister of the** **Moon** '

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**31st October, 1993. [Fifth Year]**

"Sirius Black is not hiding around every corner." Cleo fluffed her hair in the window of Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop, pouting her glossy crimson lips before turning to the shivering Luc. "Get over yourself."

Evie snorted as Luc whimpered, shooting a hurried look down the High Street of Hogsmeade. As they had sat inside of the frilly Tea Shop all morning, crammed in between happy couples and floating bouquets of pink roses that would occasionally drip petals into their teacups, Luc had been peaking through the mint curtains.

It was strange that she of all people should be so scared of a loose resident of Azkaban. Everyone in Slytherin was fully aware of the state of her family. Her father, Aldrich Carrow, had died in the prison after the Wizarding War. It was possible that he had been cell mates with Sirius Black – two loyal followers of Voldemort united. Luc's aunt and uncle, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, had been lucky to escape the same fate.

_Or perhaps_ , Evie wondered, _Luc was so afraid because she knew exactly what loyal followers of Voldemort were like._

"But what about _The Prophet?_ " It was only late October, but Luc pulled her furry white coat tightly around herself. She looked like a white and pink marshmallow, Madame Puddifoot had very much approved. "It said he was spotted really close to here, to Hogwarts!"

Evie snapped out of her visions of the cells of Azkaban, all slick stone and misery, to shrug at the frantic Luc. "You don't need to be worried Luc. He was basically a Death Eater right, so he only kills muggles and muggleborns. Oh, and Aurors." _It wasn't Luc that had to fear Black._

Both Luc and Cleo were shooting her very strange looks, they certainly didn't share in Evie's morose humour.

"Yeah, and he's fucking nuts Evie." Cleo's brows were knitted tightly together, suddenly glancing over her cousin as though she feared potion fumes might have been going to her head. "Death Eater or not."

"I only said it to distract you from the fact that Sirius Black is not going to be showing up in the Slytherin dorms, Hogsmeade and especially Madame Puddifoot's any time soon." Evie nudged Cleo in the ribs as they turned and started to head down the cobbled High Street, on their way back to Hogwarts. "We all know _The Prophet_ talks a lot of rubbish."

As they pushed their way through the crowds of curious Third Years on one of their very first trips to Hogsmeade, which meant they clogged up the already busy street like treacle in clockwork, Cleo launched into all the rumours _The Daily Prophet_ had touted about her mother.

"Remember when Rita Skeeter said she was marrying Jonathan Greengrass – and he was twenty years younger than her!"

They all started to giggle at the thought. Evangeline Parkinson had been incredibly pleased when she had read that particular article. She still kept the clipping pinned to the mirror above her vanity table. As she told her niece and daughter, who had stifled laughter, 'my new face tonic must be working wonders'.

"Or when she said that- oh look!"

Evie had stopped directly outside of the teal and rose exterior of Honeydukes Sweet Shop. Mrs Flume was standing on the doorstep, a large box of fudge in her open arms with a sign that read 'Free Samples – New Stand-Firm Fudge'. Though she wasn't always happy with the results of some of the wizarding sweet shops famous products (because who in their right mind wanted Blowing Gum you couldn't pop or Ice Mints that made your teeth chatter), Evie did have a sweet tooth.

Cleo glanced from Evie to the smiling older woman. She knew that Evie had a strange fear of Mrs Flume, who seemed to despise Slytherin and particularly Evie due to her gothic eyeliner and clompy boots. She disappeared for a moment into the tangle of Third Years vying for free samples, returning with three small pouches of fudge.

"Here." Cleo tossed them at her friends. Evie almost succeeded in picking up Cleo in a hug, before she started to snap like a small yippy dog. As Cleo landed back down on the ground, brushing down her expensive emerald Macintosh and once again fixing her perfect dark hair, she handed Evie her own bag of fudge. "Do not pick me up – ever – again."

This was lucky because Evie had already eaten her slice. _What did Honeydukes mean by Stand-Firm Fudge?_

"To be fair, we don't need it anymore. The Map's all up here." _Oh no_ , Evie thought as Cleo continued to drag her and Luc through the crowd, _I know that voice._

This grumble was soon followed by. "Harry does look so moody skulking around the Tower on his own."

"Oh, Evie! Do you remember when Skeeter said that your dad was going to marry-" Cleo had turned to face Evie, walking backwards for a moment up the bustling High Street. She was met with the Weasley twins, who were just making it down the crimson steps of Zonko's Joke Shop and were in some sort of heated discussion. They all smacked into each other, like muggle dominos, drawing Luc and Evie into the chaos.

"Aw!" Luc squawked, having lost her footing after Cleo grabbed onto her to steady herself. The brunette had landed in the arms of George Weasley, who looked equally surprised and then horrified at having caught her. "Get off of me!"

Evie was in the arms of Fred Weasley. He looked down at her, piece of fudge still in her mouth, and grinned. As Cleo started to snap, she jumped out of his embrace.

"Watch it Weasleys!" Cleo hissed at the twins, venom in her voice.

"You're the one that was walking backwards Parkinson!" George Weasley retorted, throwing up one of his long arms that wasn't caught up in supporting a small crate of Zunko's dungbombs. "So _you_ should watch it."

Evie and Fred glanced at each other over the top of their counterparts squabbling heads. He pointed a freckled finger to his mouth, imitating chewing. In response to this rather obvious question of _'what are you eating?'_ Evie jutted her chin in the direction of Honeydukes, which stood a few shops down.

"Just get out of our way!" Cleo folded her arms across her chest, squinting up at the much taller Gryffindors dressed in their matching quidditch uniforms.

Evie wondered if they had just come down to the town from practise. The uniforms rather complimented their slim but strong figures. She mouthed to Fred, rolling her eyes a little, "its fudge."

There was something about his interactions with Cleo that made George Weasley draw up to his full height and puff air into his cheeks. He looked rather like a hamster. A handsome hamster, but a hamster all the same. "Didn't realise you owned Hogsmeade now!"

Fred and Evie met each other's gaze, exchanging a thought, before staring down at the cobbles. _Of all the come backs, that one wasn't very good. Surely George could do better – this was Cleo after all._

As it turned out, Cleo didn't need to respond to George's lacklustre wit. It was Luc that had recovered from her tumble and pushed herself in between George and Cleo, wand in her pink gloved hand. She looked like a very angry marshmallow now – that rage removing her shivers. "Leave, before I make you."

"After all." Cleo said smugly, fluttering her thick lashes. "I doubt you can afford anything around here. Did you even pay for those fireworks, or should I inform Mr Bilmes, a friend of my mothers, that-"

Evie's words were harsh. "Cleo, shut up."

All of their eyes were on her now – George, Fred and Luc for once sharing in something - their utterly baffled expressions. It seemed that it was quite a day for Evie getting weird looks. Cleo on the other hand, who whipped around and bared her teeth, was fuming.

"What!" She snapped at Evie. It was not a question.

Evie tried to consider what she had just said. It had been over two weeks since she and Fred had agreed to their 'truce'. In all honesty, it hadn't meant much. There was yet to be an instant of some planned dung-bomb attack on the Slytherin corridors that he could have told her about. When they saw each other in their shared classes, the mutual agreement seemed to just boil down to a polite nod and the occasional smile at some shared joke (like after Evie shivered at Professor Flitwick's mention of spiders.)

Until that moment, with Cleo's eyes wide and confused, only Fred and Evie knew that things had changed between them. But Cleo was a quick study – and she did approve.

"We're not going in there to tell Mr. Bilmes anything." Evie stood firm, glancing from her cousin to the twins. They were intently watching this exchange. "We're going back to the Common Room."

That was what they had agreed when the last dregs of tea were pooling in their china cups and the heat and scent of roses in Madame Puttifoot's had grown too suffocating. There was no need for Cleo to turn around and accuse the twins of stealing – in fact, it was simply ridiculous. All of Hogwarts knew that Fred and George were the ones keeping Zunkos afloat on their pocket money, limited or not.

"I can do whatever I want!" Cleo's eyes flashed, her smooth jaw clenching.

Of course, she could, she always did. To Evie, Cleo had always seemed so cold and calculating – an ice princess – but now she just seemed...childish. _What reason did she have to lash out at the twins?_

"And I can tell Madame Puddifoot that you like to put fire whisky in your tea." This very same crime had gotten many an underage wizard kicked out of the favoured Tea Shop. Then Cleo would have to relent and finally step her fine-leather booted feet into the terribly common 'Three Broomsticks'. "But I'm _not_ going to."

Luc giggled, immediately covering her face with her hands as Cleo shot her an evil look. The twin's brows rose sharply as they expressed the same 'Ohhh'.

"I could hex you into next week!" Cleo had her wand in her hand now, flipping it in a delicate motion so that it landed posed in the direction of the twins. "Don't you dare laugh at me again – any of you!"

With this threat, that all of them knew very well she could make good on, Cleo flounced off down the street in the direction of the castle. Luc was scampering behind her, struggling to keep up in the cream heels she had made the mistake of wearing, swearing her apologies to Cleo.

Evie stood with the twins for a moment, watching as the emerald and pink smudges disappeared further off into the crowd of black Hogwarts uniforms and rainbow of winter coats. _Fuck._ Evie touched a hand to her brow and looked down at the pouch of 'Stand-Firm Fudge'. _What did I just do?_

The answer was simple – she had stood up to Cleo. But it wasn't just because of the fudge.

Fred Weasley was smiling at her now. He looked impressed, brows high in his face, while his twin simply appeared confused. He raised his hand in a high five and poked his tongue into the inside of his cheek, nodding his head with approval. "Nice one, Princess."

Evie frowned at him wryly, shaking her head as she sprinted off down the cobbles after Cleo. _Why did something flutter in her chest when Fred looked at her like that?_ The question lingered in her mind as she neared Luc and Cleo, who were still fighting, but this time outside of the Post Office. _That wasn't technically part of the truce._

"Why are you storming off?" Though Cleo had heard her approach, she had only continued in her quick stride, moving so fast that the owls on their roosts let out a frightened 'eek'. "Cleo wait."

"What the fuck was that! Were you trying to embarrass me in front of a bunch of...ugh, Gryffindors!"

Cleo could not stand to be laughed at, not by anyone. Not even Evie. "No - I was only joking."

"Well, maybe you should get some funnier material." Pursing her lips, her cousin looped her arm around Luc. It was not that she necessarily wanted to forgive the other girls' indiscretions, but Cleo always needed a loyal foot soldier. Without Evie, Luc was the nearest replacement. "You've been far from hilarious this afternoon."

Evie threw her hands into the air, the sleeves of her black jacket falling down to reveal the soft skin of her arms. "Fred and George aren't going to tell anyone anything – and even if they did, what does it matter! Its only fire whisky, we all drink it?"

"Oh, so you're on a first name basis now." Cleo's lip curled. "Are you so close to those blood traitors that you can tell which is which?"

_I can tell them apart._ Cleo was right, somehow she had known, even before Fred had smiled at her. _Merlin, even from the sound of his voice, his identical voice, I knew. How was that possible?_

All those hours in detention were threading together – spiders, spell-o-tape, scrubbing down cauldrons and organising potion ingredients. There was laughter, fireworks, and red hair running with soapy water. Eyes like fire and cleaning up spells. A truce. They formed into the image of Fred Weasley, as distinct in Evie's mind as the sun in the sky.

_Her friend?_

"You don't need to call them that." Evie met Cleo's eyes, daring her to look away. "So we're sort of friends now – Fred at least - what are you going to do about it?"

Cleo stared back. "Friends!"

It was too much, all of it was too much. Cleo was trying to stare her down like they were seven years old again, fighting over who got to dress up in her mother's favourite pearls or play the lead in one of their make-believe plays. The other girl was furious, but Evie was just tired. They didn't need to fight – Slytherin and Gryffindor didn't need to hate each other – Cleo didn't need to have such a stick up her arse. They were only fifteen, for crying out loud.

So Evie giggled, she couldn't help it. Cleo smacked her on the arm, peeling with laughter as she met Evie's eyes. The owls in the Post Office chirped in confusion, but they just laughed even harder.

"Shut up." Cleo was grabbing at her sleeve, stopping herself from doubling over. "I'm trying to be mad at you! All of Hogwarts is going to think I'm some sort of alcoholic tomorrow. It was less than a tea-spoon!"

"If they could smell your breath right now, it would make the rounds before the Feast." Evie touched her aching ribs. "Sorry, I think I had too much of that 'Stand-Firm Fudge'."

"So are you two okay again?" Luc asked, a little disappointment mixed into her questioning tone.

It would not be forgotten, how could Cleo forget something as monumental as her cousin defending and befriending a blood traitor? No, there might have been trouble later – but for that moment, Evie and Cleo just laughed.

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**November, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

Skimming her foot across the black ice that coated the path up to the Owlery, Evie bit her lip. She glanced up to the isolated stone tower, pale from centuries of facing the elements on its rocky cliff-side. Dressed in her uniform and Hogwarts robes, the trip to the Owlery had been a chilly and uncomfortable experience. _Why am I doing this?_ Evie thought as she marched along, very well knowing the answer. _This is so...Cleo better get over herself quickly._

Ten minutes earlier, just as she had been walking from breakfast in the Great Hall and contemplating forgetting all about her afternoon trip to Hogsmeade so that she could crawl back into her bed, Evie had been slammed into a broom cupboard.

"What are you two doing?" She had protested in the dim room, Ara and Safiya's faces pressed so close to hers that she could make out their features.

They spoke in unison, eerily like the Weasley twins. "You need to go and speak to Cleo – she's heading to the Owlery."

Evie had folded her arms and refused – Cleo had called Fred a blood traitor, why should she be the one to apologise? This was when Safiya had shot her a look dark enough to produce a shiver, speaking in her cold accented voice. "We don't know what's happened dis' time, but you two are always far too dramatic. You _will_ speak to Cleo – or our ritual trip to Madame Puttifoot's is going to be very..."

"Awkward." Ara finished for her, pushing Evie back out into the corridor. "So get running – but watch the path, its frosty!"

As she neared the bare entrance to the Owlery, unhindered by a door and offering a perfect view of the Castle's grounds, Evie froze. A larger man was dragging himself along the icy path, unflinching on his wooden leg, as he gulped down something from a metal flask he kept saddled at his hip. Evie suspected it was not pumpkin juice.

Alastor Moody halted, taking in the sight of her with his roaming glass eye. As she no longer took Defense Against the Dark Arts, Evie had only seen the man once in her life. The very first night back at Hogwarts, when he had cast a weather spell over all of the wide-eyed students. It was not that memory which made Evie tense – no, it was the rare stories she had heard from her father.

"Miss Rothchild." He snapped, as though her very name was the start of some interrogation. "What would _you_ be doing out on the way to the Owlery this morning, isn't there a Hogsmeade visit?"

"Yes." Evie's knuckles were white. "There is. I was going to see my cousin – she's sending a letter." _There was no point trying to lie to Alistair Moody,_ her dad had touted once _, not unless you can handle his questioning._

"Ah, Miss Parkinson." Recognition flashed in his remaining eye, while the other roamed over to the crooked tower. "Yes, she could name all of the Unforgivable Curses that one. But why don't I have you in my class – what would your father say?"

Evie wasn't sure what to say to this – she chose her schedule, not her dad. Besides, after a few lessons in his own instruction combined with her years at OWL level D.A.D.A, Evie was certain that she could handle herself against a Dark Wizard. Not that she wanted to meet one...

"I got an Outstanding in OWLs, sir." Evie mustered, hoping this would explain her absence from his class.

From what she had heard from Fred and George – who did a particularly good impression of Moody's catch-all "CONSTANT VIGILANCE" – and Cleo's recollection of her excitement to see the Unforgivable Curses first-hand, it was certainly an interesting class. Interesting, but she would rather stick with Potions.

"Heard anything from your dad lately?" Moody's jagged lip twisted into something resembling a smile as he thumped down his wooden leg, hard. "He's heading up the job in finding who summoned the Dark Mark, eh'."

This was also not a question.

"Not about the Cup, I haven't." Evie frowned at him, her brows dipping. No Auror would be foolish enough to send important information like that through the Post – Alastor Moody surely knew this, it must have been one of his tricks. "And he's not 'heading' the mission – he's working with Shacklebolt, Scrimgeour and the others. But you know my dad, would probably prefer to be a lone wolf."

Her father rarely collaborated with the other Auror's as they had all risen in the ranks catching old followers of Voldemort. Even after the Dark Lord's downfall, her father had not done this. He caught Dark Wizard's of another sort – those who turned on their own, inflicted the Unforgivable Curses on their children – all the heinous crimes of the world that didn't lead to run ins with your own family member's in white masks and black cloaks. It was for this reason that Andrew Rothchild had remained so sure that any of Voldemort's followers that remained, the pureblood elites, could overlook his work.

_And they had,_ Evie thought to herself, _until he was assigned to the World Cup case like everyone else in the Auror Office._

"Oh yes, Shacklebolt." Moody's scarred face twisted. His voice was inflicted with what she assumed to be his equivalent of pride. "Sure they'll catch him in no time."

_Him? Who said it was a wizard that had cast the Mark?_

She brushed this thought aside, aware that Moody was waiting for her reply. "Yes. I hope so. But sorry Professor – I need to get going."

Alistair Moody looked over her with a searching gaze that Evie was sure he had given her father so many times. It had always been Moody that rightfully suspected her father was a spy – but of course, Andrew Rothchild never left any evidence. It had been Moody's word against her father's until the legendary Auror had retired in the years before Evie started school. Perhaps he also suspected Evie now....

"Yes. Don't want to miss a trip to Madame Puttifoot's." Moody said, hobbling off down the path.

Evie's mind was spinning. How the hell did he know that was where they planned on going? She looked over herself, pondering if there was something about her particular mode of dress that morning which would prompt such a comment. _Merlin, somehow he really does see everything. Or maybe he heard Cleo talking..._

Another figure was slinking out of the owlery, and thankfully it was not another Professor. Evie called out. "Cleo wait – can I talk to you?"

"You're already talking."

"Yeah." Evie shifted on her feet, regretting her decision to wear her usual black combat boots out on the ice.

Trying to catch her cousin's eye, she stepped towards her. Cleo wasn't wearing any of her usual makeup, not even her trademarked red lipstick. Without it, her soft face seemed very young. All the same, Cleo tried to bare her teeth and give her some sort of stink-eye – but it was half-hearted.

"Look I'm sorry I said that stuff about you and Dimitri." Evie added. _Merlin, how she hated apologies._ "It was a low blow."

With this Cleo let out a little sniff, wiping her nose with the back of her pearl gloved hand. She had certainly dressed for a trip to the Owlery, in her new ivory fur lined coat (which looked oddly like something Katrine Rasputin might have owned.)

"No, you were right." She said quietly, kicking a stone on the path. "But whatever, there are plenty more fish in the sea. Or rich boys on the Durmstrang ship."

"True." Evie poked her tongue into her cheek, smiling. "What about Ivon, or did I introduce you to Rodion yet?"

It had been less than a fortnight since the arrival of the European Wizarding School delegations. Evie had seen Alexei occasionally in the corridors, he always offered her a wave and looked ready to stop for a chat – almost eagerly so . But Evie was always rushing off to class or having to meet Cleo in the Common Room. She had finally managed to introduce Cleo and Luc to Alexei outside of the Great Hall, along with Ivon, a few nights ago. Cleo had remained her cool self, though was clearly rather taken with them, while Luc had turned a particularly violent shade of pink for the rest of the day after Alexei bowed to her.

"No you haven't, but to make it up to me, you can." Cleo smiled at her, fixing the already neatly arranged fingers of her glove. Evie knew that she truly didn't care much for Rodion – he was only an Engels, while rich they were not near royalty – but it was the thought that she would count. "And I'm sorry I said that stuff about the rumour mill – its just nasty gossip like normal, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Or called Fred a blood traitor?" Evie added.

"Yeah." Cleo sighed. Neither of them were good at apologies. "Can we be friends again Evie-baby?"

Since they had first been introduced in the months following her mother's death, in those dark days that spiralled into far longer, in which her father hadn't trusted his daughter to be out of his sight, Cleo had been her only real friend. Her world had been Cleo, her infant sister Pansy, and soon Cleo's neighbour, Luc. They couldn't bare to fight for long – not when it felt like losing a part of themselves. _Even if it had only been a night._

"Oh fine." Evie said and Cleo leaped up into her arms, hugging her tightly. "We can be friends again... but there is one thing-"

"What!"

"I sort of promised the twins that they could take me to Honeydukes – to make up for me getting detention after helping them with that stupid Aging Potion... So I might need to leave Madame Puttifoot's a bit early. If we're still going."

"Of course we're still going, its tradition!" Cleo still had her arms around her shoulders, possibly contemplating straying to her bare neck. "Ugh fine! Those idiotic Gryffindors can take you to Honeydukes – get me some Blowing Gum, would you – but then I'm hunting you down and we're helping Luc with Transfigurations."

To Cleo, this was indeed a great sacrifice. "Thank you, Rosy-ro."

At the sound of her childhood nickname, a mocking adaption of her full name, Cleobella-Rose, she grinned at Evie before releasing her from her grip. It wasn't something that Evie often used – especially after she had discovered the truth about the original rose of the Parkinson family, Rosalind. _The Death Eater Spy_.

Cleo didn't know all about Rosalind and Andrew's complicated turn-coat past – she simply smiled, knowing that it meant she and her beloved 'Evie-baby' were truly friends again. All was not resolved – it never was – but with childhood nicknames and dramatic hugs, they could try and gloss over it.

"Though it's a bit ridiculous that they're buying you sweets when they didn't even manage to get their name's in the Cup." Cleo took her hand as they headed back in the direction of the castle, navigating the icy path. "Now Harry Potter and that Hufflepuff dimwit are going to be getting all the glory – not that the Weasley twins needed anything else going to their heads."

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I thought I might quickly explain what I think I am doing with the structure of this story. Essentially, I'm recapping the events of Evie's Fifth Year at Hogwarts alongside her Sixth Year, contrasting them with each other. Just as Evie and Cleo mirror each other, as do the twins, so does the narrative of their lives. (e.g In this chapter we have two differing instances of Cleo and Evie making up after a fight about Fred Weasley.)
> 
> Sorry for that ramble - if you aren't liking this sort of structure, you can always tell me!


	14. Sugar, Spice and All Things Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sirius Black clearly intends to ruin Evie's day & the Durmstrang boys discover Honeydukes.

**"** **I'm feeling devious/**   
**You're looking glamourous/**   
**Let's get mischievous [...]**   
**Just take my hand and we'll abandon this world."**

**The Orion Experience,** _**Cult of Dionysus** _

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**November, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

Surveying the mint and chequered shop, shelves full of glass jars and shimmering crystal bowls piled high with sweets, Evie couldn't decide where to settle her eye. Honeydukes was truly the most wonderful place in all of Hogsmeade - Merlin, perhaps in Britain. There were rows upon rows of the most extravagant and strange sweets - from a floating cutting-board that regularly carved out fantastic animals from slabs of thick coconut ice, a crate filled with hopping loose Chocolate Frogs, to barrels that continually dripped a rainbow of Berty Bots Every Flavoured Beans, seemingly endlessly, into one another like a fountain of bubbling champagne.

It was near impossible to move without bumping into another gaggle of bustling students, all buying and longing for sweets. Evie had taken up a post in the inside of the shop window, admiring the stacked display of Chocolate Frog boxes in the shape of an ancient pyramid. She took one carefully off the display, turning the purple packaging over in her hands.

"They're gawking at you like you're gonna be part of the First Task or something?" George was hovering next to Evie, surveying the wall lined with differing flavours of Sugar Quills.

Evie glanced slyly over his shoulder, noting that a particular bunch of young Slytherin girls were once again poking their heads out of a row of fudge to stare at her. In the crowd she could identify Marcus Flint's little sister, as well as Zoe Accrington's cousin. _Of course._

It seemed that Cleo had been right about the rumour mill.

For the first time in a long while, since around her Third Year, it had grown annoyingly apparent that whispers about her secretly being Andrew Rothchild's bastard half-blood were on the rise again. It possibly did have something to do with her now very public friendship with Fred, as well as some of the other Gryffindors - she would give Cleo that. Evie could never entirely figure out what it was about hanging out with 'blood traitors' that gave credence to the rumours. Whatever the reason, her dad's World Cup and general paranoia had pre-empted it and surely been his reason for warning that she should stick with her Slytherin, read pureblood, friends.

_Merlin and Morgana, purebloods are so strange... and nosey._

With this thought, she shot daggers at the young Slytherin girls till they fled to another row of sweets from fright. The twins laughed, though as Gryffindors, they were doubtlessly unaware of the pureblood Slytherin gossip.

"Yeah, maybe Harry will be forced to wrestle a Chocolate Frog away from Evie." Fred leant against the display at the front window, jokingly snatching a hand out to take the Chocolate Frog from her.

Whatever Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory had to face in the First Task, which was scheduled for the following week, they would have to be faster than that. Evie grinned at Fred, still holding the box. "Good luck to him."

While Evie tried to focus on the sweet shop, filled to the brim with all her favourites, it was difficult. She could hear the faint, tinkling giggle of the Slytherin girls somewhere again. _Maybe its got something to do with Alexei_ , she wondered, _not just Fred_. After all, it was Durmstrang that took being a pureblood so seriously - they didn't even allow muggleborns into their school. It would make sense that after their arrival at Hogwarts and growing closer to many of the Slytherin, that old purity gossip would be unearthed again. _Isn't there more important things to talk about, like the Tri-Wizard Tournament?_

"Anyway, you haven't told us what you want?" Fred coughed lightly before he spoke, purposefully snapping Evie out of her glassy eyed pondering. "You can't just want a Chocolate Frog? I know you've already got all the cards!"

When the twins had insisted during their hours of scrubbing down old trophies as a result of their detention thanks to the 'beard incident', commonly known as the failed illegal entry into the Tournament thanks to Evie's Aging Potion, she had assumed it one of their little promises. When they got to Hogsmeade, she would then have the chance to buy her own sweets (and Cleo's demanded Blowing Gum.)

But it seemed the twins were taking their oath rather seriously. _Gryffindors._

Evie shrugged, looking down at her favourite Honeydukes item. _Of course she had all the cards, by the end of Third Year, who didn't?_ "What's wrong with a good old Chocolate Frog!"

"Its boring." Fred protested, gesturing around at all the other sweets.

"Yeah. Why have a chocolate frog when you can have a jellybean bigger than your fist." George pointed, though not very far as he was rather tall, up at a high shelf housing a giant red jellybean.

Evie muttered. "I think that's just for display."

Twirling her around by the shoulders, Fred pointed her in the direction of the floating orbs of sugar pinned to the back wall with strawberry shoelaces. He placed a hand on either side of her face, like earmuffs. "Or blowing gum bigger than your head!"

"Watch yourself Gryffindor. What are you saying about me?" Evie laughed, pretending to bare her teeth. She was so enthralled in this show of anger, her eyes meeting with Fred's, that she completely forgot about the gossiping girls. _Did he do that on purpose?_ "First you insult my hair at the start of term, now you're saying I have a big head!"

"I didn't insult your hair." He twisted one of the rare white strands with a careful hand, glancing down at her through his lashes. "I like your hair."

_Merlin, Morgana and all the Round Table! Why does he do this to me?_

The previous evening had been playing on a loop in Evie's mind, she could hardly sleep (and not just because Cleo had been making loud and exasperated sighs in the bed next to her.) They had almost kissed, she had been on his lap in that Portrait Gallery. Even with her hands all bloodied, tears still slick on her face, she had wanted him to break that final distance between them. But in that moment before she could taste the honey of his lips, like she had imagined so many times... they had awkwardly broken apart. He had brushed it off with a joke about her dad's photo giving him a funny look. After that, he had simply held her for a while before they both snuck off to bed - their very separate, distant, horribly far away beds.

"I like your hair too." George bounded over, patting the top of Evie's head like she was a small and angry cat. "It looks like a whole bunch of liquorice."

Evie smoothed down the black and white locks of her hair defensively, breaking free from her sudden proximity to Fred. _What?_ She had heard from some girls in their year that George Weasley was supposed to be smooth - that was not what she would have called smooth. Fred frowned at him.

"It's okay guys." Evie rolled her eyes, trying to ignore what had just happened. That was her special talent after all, deeply repressing uncomfortable situations and terrible family secrets. "I don't want you to get me anything."

George poked at the Blowing Gum she held in a small paper bag. She had already bought it upon entering the shop, so he was not very observant this afternoon. "What about the Blowing Gum?

"This is for Cleo."

His nose wrinkled at the sound of her name. "Forget that then."

Before Evie could begin her lecture on how she had in fact already bought the Blowing Gum and didn't need to hear his thoughts on Cleo again, everyone and their grandparents knew they hated each other, Fred interrupted. "What are you talking about - you can have whatever you want?"

"It's fine. I'm buying this Chocolate Frog and I've already bought the Gum, that's it." She couldn't let them spend their money on her, not after she had messed up her instructions on how to take the Aging Potion - on purpose - in order to stop them getting their names in the Goblet. It seemed that they had assumed this was their fault... sort of, it was. "It's not like my Aging Potion worked properly anyway. You don't owe me."

"You got detention because of us." Fred sounded annoyed, crossing his arms over his chest. He had been at some sort of makeshift quidditch practise that morning and was still wearing the Beaters uniform she loved so much.

George added between bites of a handful of the tester liquorice (which was out in a 'take one' jar on the counter'.) "You said it would have worked though, if we hadn't downed it all."

Evie shrugged, her eye's flickering around the shop for a distraction. A display of sugar quills looked promising, even if they had already admired it. "Oh wow - these Sugar Quills write in new flavours! I wonder if they have cherry."

As Evie pretended to be very taken with the Sugar Quills, and promptly was when she discovered that they did in fact have cherry flavour, the twins split up. As Fred wandered deeper into the shop, loudly grumbling to himself, George slipped to her side.

This was one of their usual plays - divide and conquer.

Whipping around, she asked George before he could try and ware her down. "Why is he so mad about this?"

George still had a bunch of free samples stuffed in his mouth, so he merely stared at her for a moment as he chewed. It was funny - once she hadn't been able to tell them apart, but now it couldn't be more obvious. There was something about the way he parted his hair, ruffled his shoulders, led with his chest when he walked... if you took the time to notice, he was startlingly different to his twin.

Having finally chewed enough of the liquorice - which was in fact the exact black-bird hue of her hair - George glanced around the shop. Fred was no where in sight, only a few Third Years remained near the window. "Did Fred tell you about our bet at the World Cup?"

Frowning, Evie tried to recall all that they had talked about in their summer letters. She had heard a lot about their experiments - the floating concept of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - but there had been very little detail about the bet. She had been waiting to find out if he had been hurt at the attack, galleons and sickles had been largely left in the footnotes.

"I think he said you both bet on Ireland to win, but Krum to catch the snitch?" Jutting her tongue into the inside of her cheek, Evie realised that he hadn't actually mentioned what had happened with his successful bet. Not even after school started.

"Yeah, we smashed that one out of the park. Thought we'd hit the Jackpot, enough to... anyway, never mind that." George neatly poked back into place one of the slipping Chocolate Frogs in the pyramid display. He wasn't looking at her, the visible side of his sharp and freckled cheek a delicate pink. "In the chaos, you know, after everything, we find out that the guy we made the bet with has run off somewhere - we put basically all our savings on that bet."

Her voice faint, Evie was horrified. "I didn't know it was all of your savings!"

The Rothchild were more than well-off, in fact, Evie never had to think about money. Even when her father had been rising in the ranks at the Auror's Office after the Wizarding War, they had a vault at Gringott's so large that work wasn't strictly necessary...it was more to fill the time. She had rarely considered how privileged she was when surrounded by the other wealthy Slytherin - but it was different with the twins.

_I've embarrassed him,_ she realised. _He probably thinks I've been listening to Cleo and Luc._ Her friends had always taken up the opportunity to remind the Weasley twins that they were separated not just by House and their loyalties to the concept of 'blood purity', but also by their wealth.

Evie couldn't care less if Fred Weasley didn't have a galleon to his name - when she inherited one day, she could buy him all of Honeydukes. She hadn't even thought about how rude her dismissal of his offer might have seemed.

"Course not." George shrugged in response, as though to say, 'how could you have known?' "Fred wouldn't want to tell you something like that. Even if he only had a few sickles, I think he would try and buy you whatever you asked for."

Evie stared at George, distracted from glancing around for Fred. He was staring at her with a wide eyed, open expression, a sugar quill ( _was that also a tester?_ ) was placed between his lips. It had always been Fred that she had seen as honest, almost painfully so - he told her the truth, he asked her questions she didn't always want to answer.

George, he was different.

Evie sensed that he was more guarded, kept something burning secretly behind those bottle blue eyes. His thoughts didn't slip right out of his mouth, not like Freddie - there was a bit more consideration, some restraint. If Fred was a sharp blade, cutting and quick, George was the axe, his route planned before he swung. _Apart from with Cleo... she just seemed to unnerve him._

"Right." Evie said softly, fire creeping into her face. George only watched her.

Last year, he would have never confessed something like that to her - not when he had merely seen her as an extension of Cleo. Unlike with Fred, George had taken to her very, very gradually - likely due to the fact that he couldn't read Evie's lying façade quiet in the same way his twin could, he didn't know that she was something else beneath it all. It had began with an attack on Hogwarts by Sirius Black, and from there, she had eventually started to ware him down.

The fleeting thought of that previous Halloween had Evie longing even more for Freddie to reappear - after all, it was also the night that they had openly declared their friendship to all of watchful Hogwarts, which was something more precious to her than anything Galleons could buy.

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**31st October, 1993. Night. [Fifth Year]**

Evie was starting to really hate Sirius Black.

Of course, she had always hated him for the obvious reasons - he was a murderous supporter of Voldemort after all. However, it was starting to feel like him and the repercussions of his escape from Azkaban, namely the Dementors on the school grounds, were some sort of curse for Evie.

First it was the during Evie's reluctant outing to watch the Slytherin's Quidditch practise, in which Draco Malfoy had decided to jokingly suggest there was a Dementor on the pitch. This had caused Ara to leap from her seat in protest at this supposed intrusion, spilling pumpkin juice all down Evie's new jumper. She spent the walk back to the Castle shivering and smelling like a mouldy piece of Halloween candy. And now Sirius Black had decided to break into the Castle and tear through the Gryffindor portrait like a lunatic on the very night she had hoped to practise brewing some of her OWL level potions. _Ugh!_

"It's like one big sleep over!" Luc chirped, dragging along her pink quilted duvet and a stack of cushions which obscured all but her heart shaped face and blunt 1920s bob. This left her looking like a very eager, strange new Hogwarts ghost.

As they strode into the Entrance Hall from the dungeon stairwell, Cleo turned to her with stitched brows and a hard stare. "Luc, every night is a sleepover when we all share a room."

Trailing behind Cleo, who was levitating her bedding with an impressive and exhaustive display of magic, the other Slytherin girls were lugging along a blanket and pillow. Snape had flourished into the Common Room ten minutes earlier, demanded that everyone put on their pyjamas, grab what he had called 'materials needed to sleep' and should follow him to the Great Hall. As Prefects, Evie and Cleo had been first to hear that Hogwarts had been broken into, but soon the story had spread like wildfire (Cleo had never been good at keeping interesting gossip to herself.)

As they entered the Great Hall, almost all of the other students were already piled into the large stone room. Though there were no assigned sleeping spots, it seemed that each of the Houses had immediately divided themselves into a differing corner of the room. On instinct, the Slytherin began to pile into the far-left corner, huddling around each other and throwing down their bedding.

_Everyone's acting like it's a party._

Evie rubbed at her arms, dressed in a pair of silk emerald pyjamas _._ Like always, she felt cold and was regretting telling Luc that very afternoon, teasing her even, about how Sirius Black would never get into Hogwarts.

_But there is a murderer possibly still loose somewhere in the Castle._

"Professor Snape said that they couldn't find Black anywhere, right?" Ara nudged her on the arm as they made their way through the Hall, stepping over sprawled out legs and somehow already sleeping Hufflepuffs.

She was dressed in a very large green Quidditch top that she had dubbed 'the sleep shirt' and a pair of bottoms printed with flying brooms. Next to Safiya, who wore a small white nightgown under an elaborate silk robe, they seemed like polar opposites. Apart for in the fact that she too tried to console Evie, in her own unique way.

"Black Swan, you think de' Professors can't handle Sirius Black." She eyed the Heads of the Houses that were patrolling out in the Entrance Hall. "Ridikulus', they surely taught Black all he knows, no?"

Evie smiled at them both, nodding. "You're right, thanks guys."

With this Ara patted her lightly on the shoulder as Safiya marched in the direction of Cleo, who had already claimed her spot in the centre of the Slytherin group in the far corner. In doing so it seemed she had chucked Draco Malfoy and Pansy's love nest out of the way, which was earning her a few choice words from her little sister.

"Evie, come over here. Lectra's got some- just get over here!" Cleo called from atop a pile of cushions, flanked by Electra Gaunt and Marcus Flint. She looked like the princess of a foreign land, something out of a whimsical children's tale. Her hair was rolled at the bottom with strands of golden ribbon, intended to shape her signature curls, while she was dressed in a partially sheer emerald robe trimmed with dark fur. _The Queen of the night...or the pillow fort._

As Evie dragged herself and her bedding across the room, fully aware that Electra Gaunt had shot out of the Common Room like a bolt with her pillow stuffed with a bottle of Fire Whisky, someone else was trying to catch her attention.

His hand still raised in the air, from the opposing corner of the Great Hall with his Gryffindor friends, Fred Weasley had waved at her.

_Wait._ Evie was almost sure there was a mistake, but there was no one else standing near her as Ara and Safiya had joined Cleo. _He just waved?_ It was now more than that, as he beckoned her over with a cheeky grin.

"I will, just a second." She stepped a bit closer to Cleo, her eye's still on Fred.

Her cousin protested immediately, her tone as lofty as any Queen of the Pillow Fort's ought to be. "You better not go over there - people will talk!"

_Merlin, sometimes she sounds like an old woman._ There were always the whisps of rumours about Evie - but no-one but Rowle and a few Slytherin loose cannons put any stock in that sort of gossip anymore. To the rest of her House, who had seen her at Cleo's side all these years, she was as pure as the driven snow. So what if she said hello to a Gryffindor, someone the Slytherin thought of some sort of pure-blood defects, how could that _really_ affect her?

Tossing her blanket and pillow at Cleo's side, she shook her head. "I'm just going to say hello. You can come too?" _And say sorry for this afternoon._

"No she can't!" George Weasley called; he must have had really good hearing. (Or Cleo was very loud.)

Evie wondered across to the other side of the Great Hall, knowing that Cleo would have something to say when she got back. Fred was propped up against the stone wall, dressed in a tartan pair of pyjama bottoms with a soft cerulean jumper, printed with the letter 'G'. All the same, it was defiantly Fred. Now she was sure of it... and the jumper matched his twinkling eyes so well.

"Hey." She shifted awkwardly on the balls of her feet, aware that all of the surrounding Gryffindors had turned to look at her. They were in the middle of a game of Exploding Snap. Now she had crossed the battleground, broke her way behind enemy lines. "What's up with the jumper?"

At Fred's side, George Weasley was staring from Evie to Cleo, who was angrily shaking her fur trimmed sleeve like a flag in the distance. It had only been that afternoon that she had defended them from her cousin at Hogsmeade - largely due to Cleo's ridiculous suggestion that she would turn them in for shop-lifting - but he hadn't seemed prepared for this.

_But we're sort-of-friends now, right?_ _We called a truce_. Evie thought. _Sort-of -friends can say hello to each other._

"Damn." He pulled at the jumper, looking down at the indication that he was in fact George. "Thought you might have fallen for it."

"I certainly did." George smacked the letter 'F' on his chest, before pulling some of their large and shared ruby blanket away from Lee Jordan, who was also examining Evie with a curious expression _. Like he thought her a wolf in sheep's clothing... or a fish out of water._

Fred reached up his hand and grabbed the sleeve of her green shirt, pulling her down onto an empty cushioned spot at his side. She could properly see all the Gryffindor's faces now, all leering over their cards (as they loved to win) or eyeing up the snake in their lion den.

One of these lions was Angelina Johnson, who like Ara, seemed to wear a large Quidditch shirt to bed. The striking scarlet looked glorious against her dark skin, while her hair was pulled up in delicate coils that spilled around her sharp collar bone. As she caught Evie's eye without the same horror as the others, especially George, Evie smiled at her weakly.

"Hi." Angelina slammed down a card to Lee Jordan's announce, sweeping them in after a light explosion. She seemed confused, but not all together annoyed at Evie's presence. "Evie right?"

"Yeah, hi." Evie nodded at her, suddenly feeling Fred thrust a few cards into her hands. "You're Angelina?"

Evie was at first sure that Angelina did not have the same reaction as the other Gryffindor's to her presence for one reason. She had rarely been on the other end of Cleo's sharp remarks or punishing hexes. Though they were rivals, Ara made sure that Angelina was still willing to practise Quidditch moves with her - somewhat of a necessity, as Ara was now the only girl on the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Though Evie's cheerful friend wouldn't admit as much, the boys were either arseholes about it, or didn't like to practise with 'a lady'. She had assumed that the protection Angelina received was owing entirely to this fact, not because Angelina might have been as sweet as her Slytherin counterpart - and she was in fact Ara's friend.

_It might not just be Fred, maybe I judged them all a bit quickly...then again, George is still looking at me like I might bite._

"Spot on. I hope you're better at Exploding Snap then Ara is at explaining the _Porskoff Ploy_." With this she laughed, smacking Lee Jordan in the face with some of the cards she had won. He yelped, before they both laughed. "You're a cheat, Johnson!"

"Oh we play this all the time in the common room." Evie nodded, surveying her cards as well as the one facing upright on the rapidly changing pile in the centre of their legs. "But its Cleo who's the real expert."

George made a guttural, near snarling sound.

"No need to lie. You've definitely got a competitive streak." Fred had stopped slamming down cards to finally speak again. He turned to Evie, tossing her a Chocolate Frog from a stack that was sitting atop the blankets. "Want a _Frog_?"

He was acting like it was perfectly normal for a Gryffindor and a Slytherin to mess around like they were - and that would have been true, if it had just been them in the musty old Potions Classroom. But Evie could feel the prickle of eyes on the back of her neck, hear the loud and clipped tones of Electra Gaunt. But she smiled at Fred all the same, even at George.

One game of Exploding Snap couldn't end the world and reveal all of her secrets, could it?

Evie took the Chocolate Frog, tilting her head to grin happily. It was clearly a face Lee and George had never seen her make before, as their jaws fell open. "Thanks. I do have a sweet tooth."

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**November, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

George took the pink Sugar Quill from between his pert lips, examining it carefully. "This one's pretty disgusting,"

As they stood by the window displays of the front of Honeydukes, Evie had a perfect view of the frost capped street outside. As George complained about the tester he had somehow found, a group of crimson robed wizards strode past in their usual collective _. Durmstrang_. They always roamed in packs, like wolves.

"Probably cause you're tasting all of Hogwarts spit."

With horror, he dropped the Sugar Quill and scraped at his tongue. "You're horrible, Rothchild!"

As Evie laughed at George's attempts to clean his mouth with the Mint Self-Flossing Tester, before realising his mistake and lopping it at the gossiping young Slytherin, a bell chimed over the shop door.

"Did I hear that my favourite Rothchild is in here?" Rodion Engels peaked his head into the mint candy shop, wide grin on his tanned face. Upon spotting Evie by the window display he tipped his large furry hat, part of his school uniform, and turned his unusual navy hair to a monochrome that matched the girl in question.

Rodion was pushed through the door, Alexei Varga and Ivon Oblansk followed after him. They too took of their large furry hats and smiled at Evie, though their hair remained a honey brown and pale white.

"I think you'll find she's _my_ favourite Rothchild." Alexei stepped closer to Evie, Third Years hurrying out of the way of his following pack. If the Durmstrang boys were indeed wolves, he was the Alpha. With his bronze eyes glinting, he winked. "Isn't that right?"

Ivon, who seemed to spend all his time unwittingly following Alexei's every whim, glanced around the sweet shop and said with a sigh. "What's next, are vu' going to ask if she comes here often?"

His pale blue eyes, like sea foam, flickered back to Evie as she scrunched up her nose and glanced away. Ivon seemed to realise that he had offended her in some way, following into a swift and short bow. There was something about Ivon, though he was ever polite, that made Evie feel tense - he radiated his own unease, as though he was constantly performing himself on a diplomatic mission. _After all, his father was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic._

Alexei was leaning on a shelf lined with Bert Botts, he eyed his friends and continued his flirtation. "Do you?"

All eyes were on her and Alexei. George let out a throat clearing cough, clearly preparing to tear into Alexei's attempted pick-ups. But Rodion and Ivon, who nudged each other, seemed to be enjoying watching Alexei's show - for like Ivon's diplomatic façade, Evie sensed that this was also some sort of performance. _Not just for me..._

"Are you telling me you've failed to visit Hogsmeade's greatest treasure." Gesturing around at the shop interior, lined with colourful sweets, she kept her voice dry.

Rodion pushed in front of Alexei, who's eyes darkened for a moment, before he let his friend pass. He was energetic in his sudden speech, hair turning a startling bubblegum pink as his London accent twinged. "Think' you'll find we 'ave. Its called _The Three Broomsticks_. Merlin, I've missed butterbeer. Don't have it in ye old Durmstrang - can't really leave the castle or."

With this he imitated breathing fire, which had all of the red-cloaked boys cackling. There in-joke was interrupted by another Durmstrang student tumbling through the door, his bright blonde hair tossed by the wind.

"Jonas!"

Rodion turned from explaining his plight to punch the boy, who was as tall and broad as the shop door he clung to. Oddly, he was wearing an Ireland scarf over his dishevelled red cloak. _So this is Jonas?_ He smiled sheepishly, seemingly having been lost.

Before Evie could offer to introduce George to the Durmstrang boys, who were all attempting to very sternly (but politely) shove one another while Evie wasn't looking, Fred stepped out from a crowded row of sweets. In his arms he held a paper bag, printed with the candy cauldron of the Honeyduke's logo. It was stuffed to the brim with Chocolate Frogs.

Something in Evie's mind whispered. _Oh no._

"Making friends?" He quirked a messy brow, surveying his twin, Evie and the gaggle of Durmstrang boys that all stood by the front of shop display.

His azure eye landing on George, he frowned. With practise, Evie could interpret the glance _. What are they doing here?_ His twin shrugged in response, which only made Fred's frown deeper. Evie could only wonder why?

"Never." Evie joked - aware of that strange, tussling tension as the boys all looked over each other. Rodion didn't seem that bothered, turning his hair ginger, while Ivon and Alexei stiffened as though only just realising Evie wasn't alone.

"We met ages ago, two weeks, one might even have called it Halloween Eve - or Evie!" Rodion ran a hand through his now red locks, glancing in his reflection in the shop window, rolling his eyes and switching it to a deep, Durmstrang vermillion.

Aware that Fred hadn't taken his usual spot up at her side, Evie tried to catch his eye. _Was he still embarrassed about me not wanting him to buy anything for me?_ She assured herself that after the Durmstrang boys were gone, she would talk to him about it. Evie hadn't meant to upset him, truly. Seeing that burning in his eye, his clenched jaw, she wanted to soothe him, to tell him that money didn't matter. She wanted Durmstrang gone. "Freddie, this is Alexei, Ivon, Rodion, and you must be..."

"Jonas Volkov." Jonas had a happy, open face with a rather squashed nose. He nodded, bumping into Ivon with his eagerness. "You're Evie? I've heard about you."

As Alexei let out a sudden, uncomfortable laugh (shooting Jonas a warning look), George snapped to attention. "Volkov like the Bulgarian beater?"

Fred, George and Evie all glanced at the grinning Jonas - who bafflingly wore the scarf of the team Bulgaria had won against at the Cup. Evie had a sneaking suspicion that Jonas might have been the type to want to make friends on all sides, no matter their quidditch loyalties, hence the scarf.

"My brother." He replied, only confusing them all further. "But we're German."

None of the Durmstrang boys, apart from Jonas, looked like they wanted to get into the complex process of Quidditch recruitment. Instead, Alexei glanced over the two boys that had moved to stand by either side of Evie, her bodyguards.

_What is going on?_ She thought. _They're all behaving so...oddly._

"Freddie Weasley - and George." Alexei nodded to them both, his tone as plastic as the giant jellybean on the far shelf. "We witnessed your attempted entry into the Tournament."

"It's Fred." His voice was clipped, knuckles clenched on the handle of the Honeydukes bag. Waves of agitation rolled from Fred, who had shaken his head at the use of his nickname... and Alexei's dismissal. "And it was more than attempted. If we had taken the right amount of Aging Potion, you'd be talking to the Hogwarts Champions."

"Aging Potion." Alexei smirked, lifting a perfectly moulded brow. "That would never get you through the Age Line - Karkaroff advised on it, not just your Headmaster."

"Well it did, didn't it." Fred retorted. "Like you said, you witnessed it."

The two boys had been steadily making their way to the front of their respective groups, Fred shielding Evie while Alexei took to the head of his Durmstrang friends. As they stared each other down, with tension thicker in the air than the smell of coconut ice and sugar, Evie reappraised Alexei. _He wasn't like this before, was he?_

As always, she hid her annoyance at the slight against her Aging Potion (which Dumbledore himself had praised.) It seemed that the Durmstrang students had something against Hogwarts' headmaster, likely due to his half-blood status.

"Still, an Aging Potion is a pretty bammy idea." Rodion clamped a hand down on Alexei's shoulder, clearly reading the tension. It might have seemed like a friendly slap on the back, but he was poising himself to hold Alexei back. "You'd have to be pretty good at Potions. Hey, maybe Katrine could have done it?"

This caught Alexei's attention, he broke his sharp eye contact with the twins. As he turned to Rodion, Fred and George eased ever so slightly, with Fred adding in a boastful tone. "Evie managed it - we just took the wrong dose."

"I wouldn't call it the wrong dose - it did give us pretty amazing beards." His twin added.

George mimicked a beard tumbling from his chin and down to his knees. This had Jonas, who had been trying to clear up a bowl of testers he'd knocked over, hooting with laughter. Even Ivon, ever strict and upright, cracked a smile at the memory of Halloween morning.

"Ah, your practise potion!" Alexei was once again looking at Evie like she was the only person in Honeydukes, his voice conspiratorial.

She smirked back at him, glad that the tension was seemingly over. "Maybe if you hadn't smashed that version, we _would_ be talking to the Hogwarts Champions right now."

Alexei and Evie started to laugh, joining in with the rest of the boys who had seemingly found George hilarious. All but Fred cracked a grin. He stood straight upright, glancing sideways at Evie. As he turned back to his twin, still shielding his friends from the 'threat' of Durmstrang, George immediately imitated his expression.

The twins asked in unison. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, the night before entry opened I bumped into Alexei outside the Great Hall - well, he bumped into me - and I fell over and smashed the weaker doses of the Aging Potion." Evie shrugged. It wasn't Alexei's fault, she had always intended to brew another. "They would probably not lead to the whole-" Evie mimicked George's beard impression.

"I'm sorry gentleman, I ruined your quest for glory." _And galleons._ Alexei spoke in that honeyed voice Evie was used to, all smiles once again. "But it did mean that I met your lovely friend."

_Strange._ Evie thought. _Very strange_.

"Who's Ivon talking to?" Jonas questioned, glancing around the shop.

It appeared that Ivon had grown tired of watching Alexei's propensity to only converse with Evie, while his friends stood acting as handsome props for his shimmering, infectious performance. _What happens after the final curtain falls?_ No, Ivon was over examining the nearby row of unfamiliar fudge, but was soon overcome by the gaggle of gossiping Slytherin girls. Marcus Flint's little sister was touching the handsome boy's sleeve, giggling up at him as she chattered away about something, her eyes flickering to Evie. Ivon remained as polite and emotionless as ever, simply nodding.

"I think we might need to save him." Alexei tilted his head, brows furrowed as he watched Ivon and his new fan club.

_Please do_ , Evie shook her head at Marcus Flint Junior, _they're probably hyped up on copies of 'Greengrass' and think they're in with a chance of marrying into Bulgarian political royalty._

With a bow and a final wink, Alexei added. "It was nice to see you Evie." His bronze eyes darted to the twins. "And you two."

Fred placed a hand down on Evie's shoulder. "Great, we were just leaving to get butterbeer."

"Yes, charmed. We're sure." George waved off the boys as they attempted to push their way through the Slytherin girls in the fudge row, who pointedly ignored them for the blond, and continued to prod at Ivon. As soon as they were out of earshot, George said through a smile. "He seems a bit up himself, Alexei, didn't he? Wouldn't even say hello to me at first, talks like he's thirty - and they're all still wearing those hats."

Evie snorted, he was right. _What was up with Alexei, and the hats?_

"Shit. I totally forgot, I need to get back up to the Castle - well, I should already be there by now." George glanced at the clock above the door. "Got detention with Lee again. Starting to regret sticking all of Trelawney's furniture to the ceiling."

Evie didn't bother to ask why he was the only twin serving time for what had undoubtably been a team effort - she knew how things worked. If the Divination Teacher had only spotted one twin in the act, only one needed to take the Detention - unlike with Snape, who loved to punish both. George was either being very sweet in taking this one to let his brother continue to hang out with Evie, or he was owning up to his own crime. _Who could tell which_?

As George pushed open the door and started on the long treck back to Hogwarts, Fred took one look at Alexei's crew still in the fudge aisle and ushered - with an encouraging shove - his Slytherin friend right out into the cobbled street. He didn't stop there, taking her by the arm and pulling her along Hogsmeade's bustling High Street.

He stopped pushing her outside of Zonko's crimson store-front. As he glanced back, seemingly thinking that they might have been followed, Evie pointed at the paper bag he had tucked under his other, non-shoving her along, arm.

"Is that for me?"

"I don't know anyone else who could eat this many Chocolate Frogs, except' maybe Ron." Fred shrugged and handed her the bag stuffed with her absolute favourite Honeydukes product - it was after all, the best thing the wizarding world had to offer.

Evie grinned so wide that her cheeks hurt, tearing into a Chocolate Frog. As she bit of its head, still smiling, Fred's eyes were on her. Even just standing there in the street, doing very little apart from leaning up against Zonko's, he was handsome. So handsome that she didn't mind that he laughed at her savage attack on the Chocolate Frogs, onlookers in the street giving her funny glances.

"Thank you." She shook a now empty Frog box. "But who said anything about getting butterbeer. I'm supposed to be helping Luc study!"

"So you don't want a butterbeer?"

"No, I do, obviously." Was he kidding? There was nothing better to wash down an entire ponds worth of Chocolate Frogs, which she soon would, than a frothy, golden pint of the towns signature drink. "But I also want to know why you were so weird back there. I thought you had wanted to meet the Durmstrang guys - remember, I told you about Jonas wanting to play Quidditch?"

He blinked at her, drawing her out of the way of an oncoming mother and pram with a brush against her hip. "Was Jonas sideburns or rainbow hair - no no, he's knock-off Draco Malfoy?"

Evie shoved him. He merely shrugged, continuing to act like he didn't know what he was doing. "Either way, I'll take my chances practising with Hufflepuff. Though without Cedric around, they're pretty all over the place."

"And you were pretty rude to Alexei?" _And he was rude back._

"George is right, why does he talk like he's thirty or something? He does have a stick up his arse." His hand moved to her sleeve, stopping her from shoving him again. Fred pinched the black fabric of her jacket between his thumb and forefinger, concentrating on it, as he muttered with downcast eyes. "All over you, not even subtle about it."

Her ears burning, Evie protested. "Oh shut up, he was not."

" _Do you come here often_? Evie, that's like the worst line in the book!" Fred met her gaze, his eyes trailing down her face - over the soft sweep of her exposed neck, the curve of her cupid bow - before returning to her shimmering, silver eyes.

"You heard that!"

"All I'm saying is, if I was trying to court you - yes I'm using Cleo's ridiculous words - I wouldn't go about it like that. Bringing his friends along like it's a show."

_So he picked up on that as well._

Her wrists now pinned to his chest, he leant against the shop and shielded her from the passing crowds on the street. Evie attempted to subdue her breathy, shaking voice.

"What would _you_ do?"

The Portrait Gallery played again in her mind - those bittersweet seconds before they broke apart. Pressed up against the shop, this was there first time alone since the incident... and it was certainly taking a turn. Evie felt heat rise once again in her cheeks, she bit her lip and glanced off, regretting her teasing tone. _He must think I'm acting so weirdly._

"I would be a real gentleman." The warmth of his breath, the intoxicating smoke and sugar scent of him, had goosebumps spreading down her arms and trailing over her back. "And buy you Chocolate Frogs and butterbeer."

Evie laughed, twisting out of his grasp. _Of course._ She was imagining the intensity, the liquid fire between them once again. He was only joking around - Fred just wanted to take her out for drinks, make it up to her about detention.

_But why was he acting so jealous?_ A snaking, soft voice whispered in her ear as they sprinted in the direction of 'The Three Broomsticks'. _Do just friends act like that?_

* * *

♡♡♡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: I know that on AO3 we don't tend to fan-cast for our own OC's - but if you want to see any of my character edits and aesthetics, you can head over to my wattpad (this_pendent_world.)
> 
> (I imagine Alexei Varga as Tom Hughes (from Victoria, etc), Donald Glover as Rodion Engels and Jonas Volkov as Evan Peters. As for Ivon Oblansk and Katrine Rasputin, I'm not too sure.)


	15. To Dance Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the wrong boy asks Evie to dance.

**"I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than the storm/**   
**And the scars that mark my body , they're silver and gold [...]**   
**This is the start of how it all ever ends."**

**Lorde, Yellow Flicker Beat**

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**December, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

Luc sighed. "What are you up to?"

Cleo smiled at her, parting crimson lips to reveal pearly teeth. For once she did not roll her eyes at one of Luc's questions, her voice a teasing sing-song. "If I told you that Lucinda, it would ruin the point of it being a surprise."

Even when happy, she was still Cleo.

Evie, Safiya, Ara and Luc were all at the front of a large crowd of whispering Slytherin, headed by Cleo, who ushered them through the cavernous Entrance Hall with a wave of her slim wrist. The click of her heels, satin and ebony, echoed with the brush of her heel against the stone.

"I don't even know where you're taking us?" Luc said.

Quietly, Evie sighed at her. If she had been paying attention to the large, obvious bulletin board in the centre of the Slytherin Common Room - which they all did as it housed their ever-changing password - she wouldn't have been so utterly clueless. That morning there had been a note penned in a scratchy hand informing them that their fifth period class had been cancelled. Instead, it was to be replaced with something dubbed 'Yule Ball Preparations' with Professor Snape in the Great Hall. Most of the other Houses had already started with their dance lessons - though it was barely December - but the thought of Professor Snape being given the task was deeply distressing. _No doubt it wouldn't even be waltzes, but 'proper pureblood etiquette'._

Seeing that her cousin was getting pulled into the larger crowd of Slytherin, Cleo shot out a hand and dragged Evie to the front. As she had another hand free and Luc continued to look around in stumbling confusion, Cleo also pulled her forward.

"Get out of my way Rowle." Cleo kept her grip on Evie's wrist as she snapped at Maximillian Rowle, who had somehow skulked to the front of the crowd with his lanky legs. "Or I'll hex you again."

It appeared that Rowle had a very vivid memory - for he glanced up at Cleo from within his bony face, his eyes glinted and he muttered something before letting the rest of the eager Slytherin consume him in their mass of swishing black and emerald cloaks. Evie had not witnessed Cleo hexing Rowle after she heard that he had called Evie a 'half-breed bitch', but the stories were somewhat spectacular. Evie did however see the result. Rowle had been left to dangle from the Common Room chandelier till someone finally decided to take pity... after a while.

 _And now he hates me even more._ Evie grinned at him as he vanished. _Git._

As they stepped into the Great Hall, gasps of awe spread through the crowd. The wooden dining tables had been removed, leaving the enchanted stone and oak space strange and new. In the high rafters, the enchanted candles flickered - their light as distant as a star, casting the Hall in an unfamiliar sultry shadow. As the Slytherin's adapted to this hollow evening glow, they cast their eyes to the far corner of the room. A brass and string band floated there - playing the soft beginning of a waltz with expert, unseen hands. On a chair beneath the instruments sulked Professor Snape, who flicked his wand clenched hand to quieten the music. _Our spiteful conductor._

"What is all this!" Luc had turned her eyes from the sight of their seething Head of House to stare at Safiya and Ara, who stood on the raised stone platform that had once held the Professor's dining table.

Evie now shared her confusion, but only for a moment. Safiya was dressed in a flowing white gown that spilled over the curving lines of her ribbon slim body to halt at her delicate ankles. There she wore a pair of satin pink ballet shoes. As if on instinct, she raised up on her arches to survey her watchful House. At her side, Ara simply glowed in her emerald velvet suit, waving to the crowd.

"You're in for some fun this afternoon angels!" Cleo had leaped up onto the stage with Ara and Safiya, clasping her hands together in excitement. "While all the other Houses have their old fuddy duddy Professors teaching them the dances you need to know for attending the Yule Ball - no offense Professor - we have Slytherin's very own ballerina, and Ara, her assistant!"

The Slytherin's didn't react to the reference to muggle ballet - not when Safiya had her cold gaze on them, just daring them to pipe up. When she had transferred to Hogwarts in their Third Year, many of them had protested to the sudden appearance of dance as an elective in their curriculum, placed right between Art and Arithmancy. But it hadn't taken long for Safiya to scare them into silence. Well, there was also the knowledge that her mother was the fearsome Headmistress of Ugadou, and she allowed ballet in _her_ school. Therefore, a lot of the Slytherin nodded, grateful that Ara's presence had now led tohe dance instruction, or they said nothing to the contrary. Otherwise, they would have been forced to look to Snape (who looked ready to disolve into a nearby shadow.)

"Being a chaser is almost like dancing - lots of sweeping and sudden drops!" Ara rubbed nervously at her neck beneath all of her wild auburn curls, the crowd laughing along with her.

"We will be giving you a demonstration of the steps. You will watch, listen. It will be difficult, you will need more lessons. You will not talk." No one laughed as Safiya spoke, they stared at her in complete silence. "And only then will you follow along with your partners."

A distant Pansy Parkinson and bouncing Luc chirped. "Partners!"

"Yes, thank you Safy!" Cleo took Safiya by the elbow and gently, all the while maintaining her smile, pushed her out of the way. Taking centre stage, Evie could understand now why Cleo had insisted on wearing her favourite pearl-drop earrings and spent over half an hour brushing her shoulder length dark curls. "You might have thought the surprise I was telling you all about earlier was that we were getting to practise in the Great Hall, not a classroom like Gryffindor."

The Slytherins tittered.

"And while I admit that it does give our practise atmosphere." Cleo smiled, raising her arms up to bask in the glow of the overhead candles. "That was not the surprise."

Then came the distant sound of unison, thundering footsteps out in the Entrance Hall. All of them turned as Cleo shouted. "Please welcome the lovely ladies and gentlemen of Durmstrang - your partners for this first and our future dance practises!"

On Cleo's cue a flood of Durmstrang students marched through the doors of the Great Hall - a sea of crimson, fur lined cloaks. There were oddly just enough of them that it appeared like the group might have equalled the Slytherin, who included all of those above fourth year. As beautiful dark haired boys bowed and cunning eyed beauties surveyed the Slytherin, Evie wondered if Cleo had somehow meddled with the invitations - bringing only the best of the best.

It didn't need to be said that this included Alexei Varga. Over the heads of his companions, he sought out Evie's eye and made his way towards her. Leading the entire school, others soon mingled in with the Slytherin before the stage.

"No, no - _sonourous_ \- you don't pick your partners!" Cleo cast the charm that amplified her voice, holding her wand under her chin. Her snapping seemed to be aimed entirely at Electra Gaunt, who was steadily approaching Ivon Oblansk with a forceful smile on her lips. "I've made a list. Ivon Oblansk, you're with me."

There were protests from the crowd - not everyone enjoyed watching Cleo play God. Pansy Parkinson had a strangle hold on Draco Malfoy's arm, readying herself to get up on that stage and drop kick her sister. Evie, meanwhile, knew exactly what her cousin was up to.

_Matchmaking._

"Evie Parkinson Rothchild." Cleo smiled over her parchment list. "Alexei Varga. Go find a space and get ready you two."

At her side, Alexei dipped into another short bow and extended his black leather gloved hand. Curtseying, Evie lifted her robe as though it was a ballgown and tried not to laugh. She was no princess, this was no ball, and it was just her uniform - but in the darkened, candlelit room, she could imagine it otherwise. The Yule Ball, looming on the frosted horizon.

 _Chaperoned meetings. Balls. Etiquette and chaste glances under near starlight._ Cleo was getting everything she ever wanted, ever dreamed the Tri-Wizard Tournament might bring. If only it didn't come at the expense of all eyes on Evie as she tried to act natural with Alexei on her arm, leading her to the far side of the stage.

"Lucinda Carrow, Rodion Engels." Cleo read aloud to the crowd.

Evie turned to see Lucinda smile and Rodion shiver. The tall brunette was on his arm in an instant, gazing up at him adoringly as Rodion mouthed something to Jonas that had him sniggering. The pair followed Alexei to the empty space he had chosen.

"Oh, and Katrine Rasputin, you're with Cassius Warrington."

This was clearly Cleo's way of inflicting punishment on Dimitri Rasputin, who had still not bothered to look up at her from his wavering position at the back of the crowd. He appeared to have been shielding himself from interacting with anyone through looming behind his sister, but Cleo had taken Katrine from him. She was a gorgeous girl with sharp features and lashes of velvet brown hair that tumbled down the back of her crimson robes. It wasn't just Evie that was watching Katrine attempt to muster a smile at the sight of lumbering Cassius. Alexei had also stiffened.

Evie dropped her hand from Alexei's gloved grip, hoping to earn back his attention. As he seemed to return to himself, bronze eyes on Evie, Cleo continued to read from the list and partnerships formed all around the Great Hall.

"I've missed you." He smiled at her; his voice silky. "It's been too long."

Evie's brow arched in response. They had seen each other briefly around the Castle over the last fortnight, but their last real conversation had been in Honeydukes. It had been an odd afternoon - Fred had been acting strange, but Alexei had been...stranger. Even the twins had picked up on the fact he appeared to be putting on a mask around Evie, treating their flirtations like some sort of performance. A handsome, honeyed façade.

She didn't have to respond to this as Ara and Safiya immediately demanded back their attention, forcing Cleo to the side of the stage where she stood tapping her foot. That was, until she realised that she had her own partner to leap into the arms of _. Ivon._

The pair on the stage carefully walked the Slytherin and Durmstrang students through a regency era waltz - one unbearably popular in the ballrooms of their pureblood ancestors. As soon as this had ended and they turned to their own partners, the brass and string instruments were whipped into a frenzy of lilting, pompous melody. The courteous pairs reached out their hands - the dance had begun.

Alexei held her tenderly, her hand in his resting palm as they stepped twice to the left and promptly did the same on their right. It wasn't too difficult, most in the room didn't need to be a ballerina to figure it out. _One two, one two_. But Luc and Rodion were having trouble - he had stood on her foot, she was yelping.

"What did Rodion mean about you not being allowed to leave your castle?" It was a common mistake to believe that these rather dull, incredibly lengthy dances were silent affairs. No, all the best gossip was had in ballrooms amidst taffeta and starched cotton. It was just a practise, Evie knew, but why waste an opportunity.

_One two, one two._

Alexei laughed, raising his eyes from concentrating on the position of his polished boots. One slip and Evie's own platforms could crush him like Rodion had Luc. "Well, its sort of a trade secret."

"I can keep a secret."

His eyes burned with more than the reflection of candlelight. Alexei's smile was simply delectable. Even if it was a mask.

"Like all our schools, Durmstrang cannot be plotted on a map. If I wished to tell you the location, I simply couldn't... but let's just say that its rather impractical to leave. Opaleye dragons, mountains of snow, caves no one dares to enter - that sort of thing. I suppose you could try and treck out for a butterbeer ... if you were truly sharp and specialised in Animal Handling. Which Rodion does not."

 _Secret-Keepers,_ Evie wet her lips, _like me_. "Specialise?"

She recalled the first night they met. After he had accidently knocked her over, an apologetic Alexei had fixed her smashed potion vials with an impressive show of nonverbal magic. Though he regretfully had said that Evie would need Katrine if she longed for her potion to be replaced. _'I'm rather good at Charms - its my Speciality.'_

"Thinking of transferring?" _One, two._ They broke from each other's clasp, twisting around on the newly made dance floor. _Like a hunter and its prey_. "You've got a lot of questions."

"Oh, no. I couldn't." Her thoughts were on Freddie but looking into Alexei's sultry bronze eyes she said. "The dungeons are cold enough for me."

"Our school is a bit... different to yours." Alexei paused for a moment, clearly considering his words. While he hid it well, it had always been clear he held Hogwarts in far lower regard than he let on. All but Slytherin at least. _One two, one two._ "There are no Houses, there is no need for them. There are far too many of us anyway. When we reach our third year, we have a sort of test."

"Is there a singing hat involved?"

The sorting hat had loomed on her head for the briefest of moments - unlike with Cleo, who loved the attention she received from her time on the stool watched by all of Hogwarts. It knew all of her deepest, darkest secrets. The hat had read her fears, her history. It knew what she was.

_'Slytherin. There is no other option. Not for you, young Rothchild.'_

"Merlin, I wish." Alexei's laugh was deep and rich, his broad fur clad shoulders shivering at some memory. "No, no singing hat. You go about your average week and try and survive your classes. And then suddenly you discover that Karkaroff has put some sort of poison in your stew, and he looks over at you glumly and tells you that if you don't make the antidote quickly, you're done for."

He was enjoying Evie's horrified expression as they moved back to clasping hands, stepping to the right. _One two, one two_. "Or of course, they take you on a little trip to the dragon caves and tell you to come out alive."

"That's terrible! Then what happens?"

"The professors get together and consider exactly how well you've done all week, then there is some ridiculous ceremony where they announce your Speciality to the school. It's all golden goblets and roast beef from there." He shrugged, biting his lip as he seemed to realise that the surrounding Hogwarts students were craning away from their less revealing partners to listen in. "I told you mine was Charms, yes?"

"You did, yes."

There was something a bit... smarmy about his eager, easy smile. Ever since Fred had pointed out that Alexei was a tad up his own arse, she couldn't help but see a glimmer of resemblance to her least favourite of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. _Gilderoy Lockhart_.

"Well." They were the first of the partners into the spin, the music swelling around them as Slytherin and Durmstrang students followed their lead. Pressed against him for that brief moment, he smelled of soft sandalwood. But it was covering something, she breathed in. _Sulfuric, like iron._ "From then on, you dedicate your time to focusing on that particular subject. Oh no, don't worry, we still take other classes - its just that we are talented in one area, and Durmstrang knows to nurture this."

He was absurdly handsome, truly he was. So close to him, it was impossible not to notice. Alexei's face reminded her of something ancient and forgotten, carved from marble and waiting for discovery. _Adonis. Hector. Achilles_. His lips as soft as petals, eye's deep and tawny under those thick lashes and arched brows. He was polite, he bowed, he spoke in that silky, accented voice.

But he was not Fred Weasley _._

 _And he's lying._ Evie thought _. I can feel it now, when he meets my eye._

"But what if you messed up in the test and get a Speciality you don't want?" She asked as they spun again. _One two, three four. Smile at him, but don't feel it. Twirl_. "Or what if you are good at more than one thing?"

"There must be some magic involved in their decision, I'm sure of it." Alexei sounded it, he had a commanding tone that could make anyone believe anything he wanted. Like he never even doubted himself. "We always get what fits us. And if you truly want more than your Speciality, like I said, you can take other subjects. I also focus on Divination and Jonas got History but he spends all of his days with Krum out on the Quidditch pitch."

Evie whipped around in search of the hulking blond. _History?_ He was dancing a few partners off with the rather put out Zoe Accrington, who eyed the nearby simpering Cleo and Ivon.

"Krum, by the way, is the reason we now have a Speciality only called 'Flying'. Ridiculous."

Cleo's partner had removed his crimson outer coat to reveal a crisp white shirt, making him blend in more with the Slytherin boys. Cleo was helping him to fix a button on his cuff, chattering away, as he surveyed the room with a cool, glassy eye.

Evie giggled, turning back to Alexei and imagining the legendary seeker. "Really?"

_That's one to tell Fred and George._

"Oh yeah." Alexei bit his lip again to keep from laughing. "Nothing but the best for Kakaroff's Golden Child. Otherwise he'd probably be in Charms like me and Rodion."

Curiosity, like ever, got the best of Evie. "So you and Rodion are Charms, Jonas is History, what about Ivon?"

The blond in question had now managed to escape Cleo's grip, as the dark haired Slytherin was on the stage throwing around her arms and trying to convince Professor Snape to put on a more romantic, upbeat waltz. From his tight-lipped sneer, the answer was no. Ivon was standing by the wall, waiting for her with the others who were either taking a break, partnerless or were simply bored. Among them was Rowle, who was trying to pry Ivon into conversing with his slimy person. But the Minister's son seemed more interesting in watching the dancers - he met Evie's gaze, pain flickered there.

"Oh, he's Ancient Ways. His father was not very pleased with that, thought he would be in Duelling or something." Analysing the tilt of her head and blinking confusion, Alexei added. "Sorry, I think you call it Dark Arts here?"

That was another feature of Durmstrang her textbook had touted. Unlike Hogwarts, they did not shy from the rich and valuable subject of Dark Arts. Or at least, Evie's Aunt would have explained it like that.

"We don't have Dark Arts, just defence." _Thank Morgana._

It was Alexei's turn to look confused, his smile faltered. "I'm sure its something similar. But can I ask who that weird looking guy talking to Ivon is?"

"Oh, that's Rowle." _One, two. One two, spin._ "Just ignore him, he's probably gossiping about me. Cleo will be over to hex him shortly."

Evie smiled as her prophetic words came true. Cleo flounced away from Snape, a smile of victory spreading across her face as the music picked up its tempo. She took one look at the slimy boy with her dance partner, bared her teeth and 'accidently' stepped on his foot. As she dragged Ivon back onto the floor, three different gazes - sharp, joyous, cruel - were on her.

_Ivon. Cleo. Rowle._

"Any reason why he would be gossiping about you? It's not because of me is it!"

"How terribly vain of you my Lord." He dipped her low, his strong arms around her waist. Evie's eyes trailed to his beautiful, parted lips. If he moved any closer, they would be kissing right there in the Great Hall. _But he's not Fred._ "No, it doesn't. Rowle has had it out for me since the start of last year - it's a long story. He was probably trying to convince Ivon I'm a squib or something."

Alexei almost dropped her. "A squib!"

"I'm only joking!" She had grabbed onto the lapels of his crimson coat, Evie must have looked like she was all over him. In the distance, Zoe Accrington tutted. "I heard him saying to Electra the other night that I'm probably a squib because I'm only good at Potions. Which I'm not."

"Ah, is he a scorned suitor?"

 _One, two._ Safely on her feet once again, they stepped between twirling partners _. George might have been right_ , Evie thought, _he does talk like he's thirty_ _sometimes_.

"No, we got into an argument last year and... I might have ended up hexing him. It was his fault really. He was sporting a black eye for a while."

Alexei considered her carefully, eyes sparkling. "You're definitely more than meets the eye."

To some, that might have been a compliment. Evie, on the other hand, resolved to distract him from this thought immediately. _The less he knows about all of that, the better._

"So anyway." She drew circles in the palm of his gloved hand, looking up at him through her lashes. Cleo often did this to boys, leaving them dumbstruck. _One, two_. _Smile_. "You ever feel like you might want to try out a new Speciality?"

"I considered Potions for a while, but I failed to make my antidote and ended up covered in boils until Katrine saved me." He laughed, humour flooding into his voice, deep and true. Almost unwittingly, his gaze moved from Evie to Katrine - she followed it.

In the far corner of the Hall, looking particularly unhappy, Katrine Rasputin was dancing with Cassius Warrington. The beautiful girl looked up from instructing Warrington how to effectively twirl her, meeting Alexei's smouldering eyes. She wrinkled her nose, giggling with a grin at their shared horror at Warrington. Then she dropped it, turning from Alexei with a sudden jolt.

"I love Potions." Alexei's attention once again lingered elsewhere. Katrine. "I just think being given my Speciality like that... it would be suffocating."

"I don't know, lots of things are suffocating." That honeyed smile was back, Alexei's voice was soft as silk. But Evie knew what it was now, a part of his performance. "But in Charms, I feel freed."

She frowned. "What else is suffocating you?"

"Oh, you know." He drew her close and dipped her, resting a hand beneath Evie's chin and forcing her to look up into his eyes. It should have made her melt, her knees weak. _One two, one two_. But he was not Fred. "There is a sort of expectation from our parents about this trip, that we might come back with news of an engagement. My mother, she's quite the character, told me before I left that the Tri-Wizard Tournament used to be the place to find someone."

In his grip, the glow of the candles behind his head framing a halo around those perfect curls, Evie spluttered. _Just like Cleo said._ "Find someone?"

"Yes." He didn't move, simply held her there for a moment. All the world was spinning, but they were so still. Alexei winked. "There is always the Yule Ball first!"

 _That's what he wants me for_ , _someone to tell his family about. A Rothchild._

"That was great everyone, but lets take a break for a minute. We have butterbeer!" At the sound of Cleo's sonoroused voice, Alexei released her from the dip. With a spin in his arms, pressed against him, she was suddenly back on her feet and watching Cleo usher in a floating tray of frothy goblets.

It thundered in her ears. _That's all he wants me for?_

"Yes!" Rodion had sprinted so quickly out of Luc's hold that he had knocked over some of the pairs in his leap into the air, grabbing a butterbeer. The rest of the Slytherin and Durmstrang students followed suit, though they were not that eager.

Just as Alexei was handing her a butterbeer, the crowd behind them jostling for a swipe at the tray, Evie felt someone shove her. Butterbeer sloshed down her robes. It had been Rowle. As he took a goblet and skulked off to the wall again, ever lurking, he left her with a spitting hiss. "Out of my way, half-breed."

On instant, she reached out to steady herself. Fred was not there, so she held onto Alexei. His brows were knitted together tightly in contemplation. _Did he hear that?_

Evie assured herself that he hadn't, for there would have been questions, after Alexei silently cast the clean up charm to dry off the front of her robes. She smiled at him, really meaning it. He might have been putting on some sort of performance, it might have been just because he wanted to write home about a Yule Ball date with the last of the rare and pureblood Rothchilds - but underneath, he was a good person, she could feel it.

Just like with Cleo, she knew that there was something more lurking beneath the shadows - golden and soft, true and pure. Like sunlight peaking through dark clouds.

"Evie! Alexei! Butterbeer!" A chuffed Rodion made his way over to the pair, holding up his goblet of butterbeer in a quick and dirty toast. As some splattered down on nearby Luc, who yelped at him again, they couldn't help but laugh.

_One two, one two. Smile like you mean it._

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**December, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

**"** To many-" Evie panted. "Fucking stairs in this school!"

With her dance practise over, Evie was forced to brave the moving staircase on her way to NEWT Transfigurations in the high Southern Tower. This would normally have been a strenuous task - involving carefully weaving her way through the crowds of students on the stairs travelling in packs to their own classes, the ridiculous amount of steps and the fact that for whatever ridiculous reason, the stairs also moved! But with her ankles weak from all of Alexei's spins and her back hurting from the sudden dips, it was made worse.

On the opposing balcony, waiting for the stairs to meet his landing, was a certain handsome Weasley. In her attempt to express her joy at seeing Fred, Evie shouted at him. "Oi, ginger!"

Hands in his pockets, smirking like the devil, Fred nodded back. "What's up, Princess?"

Finally, the stairs connected with the landing and Fred trotted down them two at a time. They both now stood in the space between the second and third floor - it was still a long journey to the Southern Tower. Evie took his arm, resisting the urge to crack every bone in her body.

"You will not believe the totally mental lesson we just had!" Her voice bubbly, people were giving her funny looks. That girlish sound only escaped her in the privacy of their dormitory, or when she saw Fred, it just leaped out.

Fred's brow arched. _Merlin, he's not even trying and he's gorgeous._

"Remember when I said at breakfast that we were scheduled to have 'Yule Ball Preparation'". They walked up to the third floor, trying to avoid a group of giggling Hufflepuffs wearing Cedric propaganda. "Well, turns out it wasn't just Snape telling us which spoon to eat dessert with after all."

"Such a shame that." Fred grinned at her, there arms still looped. "Bet he's been practising."

"I know right. But instead, we have dance practise in the Great Hall. Safiya and Ara demonstrated for us these weird old pureblood waltzes - Merlin, poor Snape was stuck charming the string band - and Cleo invited Durmstrang to dance."

Fred's jaw clenched. As they reached the landing at the tip of the third floor staircase, Evie waited for his usual witty remark about Snape, or their ridiculous pureblood customs. _'That's the only time Snape will be charming anyone then?'_ But he said nothing.

 _Durmstrang._ Evie thought to herself. _He doesn't like Durmstrang now?_ She had hoped that whatever had been going on between Alexei and Fred at the Sweet Shop wouldn't temper his perception of all of them - especially polite Ivon, or snappy Rodion. _Or maybe he's imagining me dancing with Alexei..._

Evie touched his arm, adding on about Cleo. "I think she's moved on from Russian royalty and-"

A flash of light shot out from above them on the staircase, brushing the corner of her eye. Then there was only blistering heat. Evie felt it first in her clenched forearm, tearing through her muscles and sinking down the slim tendons of her hand, leaking out at her fingertips.

"What was that-"

Then she couldn't see, white light consuming her vision. It felt as though phantom hands were tearing at her arm, digging in their gruesome claws to peal off her flesh. That and burning, searing agony. _A hex._

It hurt to scream. "Get it off me!"

Though she couldn't see it properly, she could feel the sleeve of her robe. Pulling at it, dragging back the cotton to reveal her burning skin, Evie dug in her fingers and scratched. _Blood._ The smell of it. Iron and sharp. "Get it off me, get it off me!"

There was screaming. Everything was white. _Is that me?_

"Evie what is it?" Fred's voice, distant and lost to her. "Evie!"

Evie reached out for Fred, desperately searching for him in the hollow white abyss. The fire was spreading through her body now, more than just her arm. It was dragging her down, down, her knees crumbling. "Get it off me! Fred!"

Her foot slipped on the staircase and then she was tumbling backwards. It was a different darkness that overtook her vision when she heard the thump of her head against the stone, far, far below. This one was black and forever.

 _Then let it be forever_. Evie thought. _Make this stop._

But then there was a voice, the only voice, that could draw her back through fire and shadow. He was always the loudest in any crowd, frantic and terrified. _Freddie_. But the burning flames had her, the darkness too. She struggled, she wanted to reach out for him. But there was nothing but black.

_One, two._

"Evie!" He was screaming now.

_One, two._

Yet she could only make out the sound of her heartbeat in that terrible, lonely darkness.

_One, two._

"Evie!"

_One..._

* * *

**♡♡♡**


	16. Intermission

_**"The power of youth is on my mind** _   
_**Sunsets, small town, I'm out of time"** _

**Lana del Rey, 'Old Money'**

* * *

**Conclusion to Part One of We Were Young and Pretty**

In which black swans fly and friends become enemies.

For darkness can lurk behind familiar faces.

•••

* * *

** * A Brief Character Index * **

** The Slytherin **

****

**Evangeline ‘Evie’ Parkinson Rothchild**

_Our protagonist, the secretive ‘Black Swan’._

**Cleobella-Rose ‘Cleo’ Selwyn Parkinson**

_The Queen of Slytherin, the ‘White Swan’._

**Lucinda ‘Luc’ Carrow**

_Their third wheel, a wolf in sheep’s clothing._

**Safiya Royu**

_The elegant and foreign ballerina._

**Araminta ‘Ara’ Caspian Rosier**

_The bubbly Slytherin Chaser._

**Maximillian Rowle**

_A spiteful git._

** The Gryffindor **

**Fredrick ‘Fred’ Gideon Weasley**

_The most charmingly volatile of the mischievous twins._

**George Fabian Weasley**

_The defender._

**Lee Jordan**

_A hilarious Quidditch Commentator, third member of the ‘Terrible Trio’._

**Angelina Johnson**

_The kind Gryffindor Chaser._

** Durmstrang Institute **

**Lord Alexei Varga**

_The honeyed leader of the Durmstrang boys. His Speciality is Charms._

**Ivon Oblansk**

_The Son of the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, Alexei’s shadow. His Speciality is ‘Ancient Ways’._

**Rodion Engels**

_Wild, a loose cannon. His Speciality is Charms._

**Jonas Torin Volkov**

_Brother to the Bulgarian Quidditch player, a golden hearted fool. While he loves quidditch, his Speciality is History._

**Katrine Rasputin**

_A Potioneer and technically, a Russian princess._

**Prince Dimitri Rasputin**

_A cold prince_

* * *


	17. Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things go from bad to worse.

**_"If he's as bad as they say, then I guess I'm cursed"_ **

**Lana Del Rey, 'Happiness is a** **Butterfly** '

**♡♡♡** ****

* * *

**December, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

Voices in the white moonlight, spite and melancholy resignation. _No, not spite.._

"I hope you didn't get yourself put in here on purpose, Weasley."

A soft sigh before the sarcastic, snapping bite. "Never Pom-pom, just a happy coincidence." Fred, for it could never have been another, let out a hiss. "I'm fine, really, I'm fine."

It was not moonlight in her eyes, soaking into her very core and dragging her down into that place of silver and white where she could not see. Evie Rothchild had not just returned from the dead, though she rather felt like it. This was not heaven, nor was it hell. It was the Hospital Wing, and gossamer white curtains danced around her bed. Thin, flickering lamps on each bed-side table were distant stars, illuminating two familiar figures behind the windswept fabric.

"You'll need to put some more of this on it soon." Pushing her arms into the mattress, Evie could just about raise her head from the pillow. The figure of Madame Pomphrey, in her familiar dress and cap, loomed behind the curtain. But that was not who she wished to reach. _Needs._ "I hope you can handle that without getting yourself into any more trouble."

He was painfully close and yet so far, both a shadow and a mirage. _Fred_. "I'll do my best."

As Evie struggled to stay upright, head groggy and left arm inflamed, a clicking of heels and the loss of her silhouette at the foot of Evie's bed indicated that Madame Pomphrey was leaving.

There was a warning in her distant voice. "I'll be back in to check on both of you in an hour."

Evie held her breath, counting each click of the matron's heels as she walked from the room. The closing of the thick oak door, the turn of the handle. Then she searched for her voice, lost within the chasm of her chest. Evie felt as though she hadn't drunk for days. _Has it been days?_

But her rustling was enough, or perhaps he could just sense her. Fred parted the curtain and poked through his scarlet topped head.

"You're awake." His words were tight, near gravelly. This was surely the result of a painful looking bruise that had spread down the side of his face, blackening around his azure eye and purpling his gorgeous lip. _Is it still bleeding?_ "Did you hear Pomphrey, she'll be back to check on you soon, but I can go and get her if...its not as bad as it looks. The tonic will kick in soon."

"What the fuck happened to you?" Yes, there was her voice. In a painful gap between her lung and ribs, fighting to the surface like a drowning man. It sounded like a croak.

A vein thrummed in his neck; Fred froze. "To me, are you joking?"

Evie had merely chosen not to think about herself, the state she was in. That was in a very separate compartment of her mind - locked between a frosty room best left untouched and a wall of mirrors. She didn't have to feel any part of her own ache when she looked at Freddie's face, the dry blood and the bruise on his sharp cheek.

"Tell me right now." Evie insisted, trying to swing round her legs to get them off the side of the bed and out from the neatly tucked covers. It was a rather difficult process and luckily Fred's arms found her as soon as she attempted to rise, or rather stumble, forwards. "Freddie, tell me."

He held her gently, so gently. Looking down at her with burning eyes, he said as softly as he could. "If I do, promise not to try and stand back up or slap me?"

"Depends on what happened." He placed her back atop the covers, propping up the stuffed cushion so that she could lean against the headboard and stare at him defiantly. "Oh, fine."

She knew what was wrong with him now, beside the bruises and the blood. Fred was so filled with anger, fear, resentment, something akin to flames that he was shaking with it. He struggled to bring himself to sit on the edge of her bed, his knuckles flexing white under their wounds. _More blood_.

"After what happened, no one would let me into see you." Fred fumed. As he spoke, he raised a hand to pinch the space between his brow. _Like I do_. "I felt useless, just standing about and pacing - I had to do something. Cleo had you covered, so she told me, I think she almost got into a duel with Flitwick trying to get in...they sent her back to the Common Room, said you were asleep. It was pretty impressive, she probably could have won."

"Cleo was here...and Flitwick?" _How long have I been asleep!_

"Yeah. McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick." He explained, shaking his head in dismissal. "Thought they could try and retrace the charm or something."

He mistook her silence for a demand to know more.

"So I went down to the Durmstrang ship to find Alexei." Fred looked down at his bloody knuckles - it was not just his blood.

Evie shot up so quickly that her head spun. "Alexei punched you?"

"No, Rasputin punched me." He channelled his frantic, burning energy into gently pressing her back down onto the pillow, frowning at the fact she had immediately broken her promise not to get up. "Seemed a bit muggle for her, but she's full of surprises. Said that Alexei 'didn't do anything' and that she'd been with him since your dance lesson. I don't trust it."

It felt like having ice water thrown on her face. "You seriously think Alexei did this?"

Fred's jaw clenched tightly; his teeth so bolted it was a wonder words could escape him. He wasn't looking at her anymore, his gaze fixed on a distant flickering candle. "Look under your bandages."

Her heart in her throat, Evie said quietly. "Why?"

 _What bandages_ , in honesty she thought, _what happened to me?_

"Just..." Fred moved down the bed, reaching out a soft hand to pull back her sleeve. She was wearing a pair of her own emerald silk pyjamas, her favourite, which Cleo had surely been responsible for bringing up to the Hospital Wing. He found what he was searching for, unravelling the first loop of cotton before pressing the tail into her opposing palm. "I thought you might have seen it...before you fell."

She peeled back the bandages with a sharp tug,, staring at her arm. There was ice in her veins, in her throat. A snow queen ready to turn the world to frost. "No. No, I didn't."

There was a word carved into her arm, so deep and black that she felt the writing in her bones. Magic had tried to knit her back together again, taking jagged pieces of herself and sewing them into a whole. But there it was, as dark as midnight and faint with blood, against the milk white skin of her forearm. _A wicked charm, a curse._ A darkness emanated from it, cold and irrefutable. And it hurt...Merlin it hurt.

Evie had found the source of the burning fire. It was no stray jinx, an accidental spell. For there were the words she feared the most.

She traced the mark with a shaking finger, whispering it to herself. " _Liar_."

 _Someone knew, someone knew she was a muggleborn._ The thought rolled around inside of her mind, slowly settling her into a spiral. Because someone knew. _They knew. Who knew?_ None of this registered on her perfectly cold face. She sat as still as a marble statue. Evie couldn't be sure that she was blinking, breathing, able to feel her own shaking hands.

 _Someone knew_.

And they had attacked her for it. This thought came later, sweeping through her mind like blood in a crystal lake, polluting till all was crimson. Her father had been right all along. She had so much to fear in the world, in Hogwarts. Even with the spell stopping her from speaking the words...their worst nightmare had sprung to life.

"Obviously put too much stalk in stupid rumours." Fred shot up, pacing around the end of the bed. He was pulling at the roots of his red hair, seething. "I can't, I can't even..."

"-Look at me?" Evie asked, no longer ice. Not when he was the one burning.

"No, don't be rid- I can't look at that." He whipped around, gesturing at the mark on her arm.

_'Liar.'_

Fred's eyes met hers, he bit his lip and resigned himself to sit down again. He had to, for he could read the distress that she hid so well. Shadows moving beneath a frosted lake, her mind running wild with worry. He tossed the coverlet over her arm, hiding what dark magic had done.

Something else was bothering Evie now. "You heard the rumours?"

She had always assumed...from the way he acted. _How could he have heard the rumours about her blood status? About her father?_ No one else ever mentioned it, no one but the Slytherin. Then again, it was only a matter that seemed to truly bother the Slytherin?

 _No_ , Evie corrected herself, _it was a matter of importance to the purebloods_. Those ancient dragons that hoarded purity like gold. The Weasleys were of the Sacred 29, were they not? And she had heard him mention that his father worked in the Ministry? Even to those deemed 'blood traitors', those cast out, pureblood gossip must have made its way out of their mansions and second dinning rooms at some point. _And reached Fred_.

Perhaps everyone suspected her a half-blood, but only Slytherin had resented her for it.

"Yeah, total rubbish." He glanced at her. In seeing her eyes turning glassy once again Fred took her hand in his. "But it must have reached Durmstrang and those gits believed it, thought you were 'tricking' them I bet."

To dupe a pureblood, especially a pureblood Lord like Alexei, would have been quite the scandal. Something worthy of its own two page spread in Cleo's beloved _Greengrass_ , without a doubt. But she had not tricked him...she had not promised him anything.

Then there was a soft, accented voice hissing in her ear. Evie replayed her conversation with Alexei as they waltzed around the Great Hall under candlelight. Had she made him some sort of promise, led him on? _'The Tri-Wizard Tournament used to be the place to find someone.'_ He had said, those bronze eyes alive. _'But there is always the Yule Ball first.'_

There had been no promise, Evie assured herself, he hadn't even asked her to the Ball. _Not yet._ But she had suspected that Alexei had wanted her as his prize. Someone to write home about to an expectant mother. A Rothchild, the last of her line. He had made a show of flirting with her, she even knew all of his friends.

If he thought that she wasn't what she said she was, would he be able to handle the shame, the embarrassment, the torment he might have received for it? Or would he seek to punish her for her duplicity?

Evie stared down at the place were the mark resided beneath cotton.

"It can't be Alexei. He wouldn't do something like this, not to _me_." Was it any better that she thought, considered for a brief moment, him capable of doing such a thing to another? _He was still a pureblood, still prejudiced._

Evie had seen Alexei minutes before her attack, they had grinned at each other, laughed, drank butterbeer. _But he is a very good liar_. She dismissed that thought. _He's good, I know he is._ "It has to be Rowle."

Yes, that was it. Rowle had finally taken his revenge for her punching him in the face all those months ago. He was the one that thought her a 'half-breed bitch' after all - he told everyone so.

Fred gently traced the lines of her palm, shaking his head. It was obvious he was trying to temper that burning flame, the fire in him that had led him to run right down to the Durmstrang ship and make himself 'useful'. _Gryffindor_.

"You've been out of it for a while, Princess. Rowle has been with McGonagall and Snape for hours now." _So it's only been hours, not days_. "McGoogs came up here after my little skirmish with Durmstrang - two weeks detention - and she said that it wasn't him. It's not just his word, the git, supposedly there were witnesses that he wasn't there."

_Durmstrang? Not just Alexei?_

Evie's mind ran wild with the image of Fred trying to fight off all of Alexei's crew. _Ivon. Jonas. Rodion._ Merlin, she hoped he had brought George along. There must have been someone there to help him, and then to drag him off the ship when he realised the fight was lost. In fact, George, Lee, maybe even Angelina would have been needed to drag Fred from the ship if he truly believed Alexei responsible.

"Don't go!"

Fred had stood up, her tone suddenly sharp.

"I wasn't going to go." He darted across the room and grabbed something from a far bedside table, soon pulling back the curtain and sealing them within the dim white space together once again. "I was getting this."

Fred shook a lavender bottle of tonic, sitting back down on the bed. This time however, he didn't just stay at the edge. She extended an arm and gestured for him to shuffle up next to her, resting on the headboard beside her. It was rather crammed, so she placed her legs on top of his. Locking him down, stopping him from getting up to pace. Fred slipped a hand carefully around her waist, Evie's head resting on his shoulder.

"Stay." Her hand was in his again. He knew exactly what she meant. _Don't go over to your bed tonight, or back to your dormitory, lie next to me. Hold me._

"Always." Fred spoke soothingly into her crown. "You don't have to be afraid. They'll find who did this. And if they don't, _I will_."

He meant it too. Evie knew it.

But the knowledge that Fred Weasley would go to the ends of the earth to find who had cursed her, marked her, wouldn't bring her relief. Not when her secret might have slithered out into the world, its venom spreading as it passed from tongues to hearts. If someone out there had discovered her secret, or believed in the rumours, finding one pureblood vigilante - someone who thought themselves ready to avenge, to punish, a smear on their snowy white heritage - didn't stop the fact that there might have been others ready to do the same.

 _Was the thought of me being a muggleborn, or a half-blood, so bad that someone would have done this to me?_ Evie's eyes filled with tears that she quickly blinked away. _Is my truth so horrible that I should lie forever?_

If she could, she would have turned to Fred in that moment and told him everything. _Everything._ If she could.

"Do you want more tonic on your eye, it looks like it hurts?" She said instead of a confession.

Fred turned to her, nodding like a wounded soldier ready to suffer the pain. He picked up the tonic that he had placed on her bedside table and a soft cotton pad. Unwilling to see her lift a finger, though she swore she was feeling better already and whatever Pomphrey had given her must have been doing one heck of a job, he readied it for her anyway.

As she tapped the liquid onto his bruise, which was slowly turning a much lighter yellow, Evie sighed a little. _He didn't need to go around punching people for her._ "There, you'll be all pretty by the morning."

"Oh, so you think I'm pretty?" Fred grinned, his eyes twinkling.

They were pressed so tightly together in the little hospital bed that they were almost entirely on top of each other, legs intertwined in the blankets and his arm around her shoulder. It was certainly no place to be looking at her like that. Not when Madame Pomphrey was supposed to be checking on them. A flush raised in her neck, darkened her lips as she stared up at him...

"Shut up and hold still." She smacked the cotton pad down onto his lip, hoping that the tonic tasted terrible. As he made a startled gagging sound, it seemed that it did.

She wasn't going to break that final line in their strange friendship that night, unable to feel her legs and her arm still aching with dark magic. Certainly not when she couldn't focus entirely on the soft sweep of his lips, those gorgeous blue eyes that watched her so intently.

Evie was elsewhere. Drawing back beneath that frosted lake and within the hidden realm of shadow-ruled thoughts, so dark and cold that even she couldn't live there.

_It had not been Rowle?_

There had been something far too neat, too easy in that possibility.

If he was not the perpetrator of the crime, he remained the source of the rumours about her? Unless there was another out there, a thought which Evie tried to set aside. Rationality, not paranoid delusion, was what she needed. Scenes, faces, snippets of conversations, flickered through her head.

It could not have been a coincidence that she was attacked during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, when for the very first time in decades, Hogwarts had welcomed other wizarding schools onto their grounds, into the heart of their castle. Fred, upon learning that it was not Rowle, had surely thought the very same.

But Alexei...he would never do something so terrible. _Would he?_

His possessive jealousy in Honeydukes. Almost dropping her at the hint of a suggestion that she might be a squib. His interest in the rumours. Asking her about what exactly Rowle would have been whispering in Ivon's ear. Had Ivon then turned and said the very same to Alexei when she had left the hall? Did fury, embarrassment, get the better of him? _Had he believed the lie, or somehow learnt the truth?_

 _But Katrine had sworn Alexei had been with her, not on the stairwell?_ The answer to this came swiftly.

 _He's a liar, a manipulative cheat. Perhaps his honeyed smiles had worked their magic on Katrine?_ The soft voice whispered. _You've always thought it. Fred even said it, he was putting on a show._

A velvet curtain fell between Evie and Alexei Varga. He left the stage, peeling off a mask.

There had been no shout on the stairs, no incantation as that blinding white light struck her and the world soon turned dark. No, whatever powerful magic had sliced through her skin, branded her a liar, had been done in silent fury. A non-verbal spell, she only knew one person capable of performing such a powerful charm. For what was a curse, but a corruption of such magic.

It was not Rowle.

 _He's good at charms_. Evie felt faint. _In fact, its his Speciality._

* * *

**♡♡♡**


	18. With Friends Like These (Who Needs Enemies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Hex Girls reveal themselves.

_**"If you stay, I would even wait all night/** _   
_**Or until my heart explodes/** _   
_**How long until we find our way/** _   
_**In the dark and out of harm?"** _

**-** _**My Chemical Romance, 'Summertime'** _

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**December, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

The Gryffindor sighed. "It's not a protection squad."

Fred had decidedly given up on his attempts to 'help' Evie pack up her stuff from the previous night and day in the Hospital Wing, throwing her badly folded old robes at her head.

The silk lining clouded her vision, locking her into a world of emerald. As she didn't move and simply put her hands on her hips, Fred swore to himself and carefully took the robe off her head and placed it gingerly in Evie's arms. Even with Madame Pomfrey's tonic mending most of her wounds, it didn't stop the fact that her left and dominant arm was rather difficult to move. Merlin, even her wand felt agonisingly heavy in her weakened grip.

As Fred grinned down at her, Evie shook her head in protest. "Yes. _It is_."

Madame Pomfrey had stormed into the Hospital Wing that morning - breaking apart Evie and Fred, who had fallen asleep curled up together - and demanded that Fred leave for class. He had put on a rather good show of not being able to see out of his right eye, which now bore only the faintest imprint of Katrine Rasputin's fist. The Matron had looked from the red head to Evie and let out a sigh, saying that the pair of them could stay in the Hospital Wing till the evening. Of course, they still had to complete all their class work.

Fred had acted like this was a win, they could stay together all morning. But Evie knew better - the Matron kept biting her lip, humming as she rebandaged Evie's wounds. Pity. Fear. She thought that Evie would feel better with Fred around.

_To be honest, she was right._

With Fred at her side, chattering away as they did their Charms homework, she hadn't had much time to think about her attack. Well, apart from just after breakfast, when she was interrogated by both the Head of Gryffindor, Slytherin and even Ravenclaw. She had told them all that she knew, which wasn't much - but as for her suspicions, Evie hadn't outrighted named a certain Durmstrang boy as her attacker. After all, she didn't actually have any proof. _Not yet._

"I could help you down to the dungeon you know." Fred pulled open the bag that was dangling from her shoulder, tucking in her pyjamas. "No need to put on a brave face for me, Princess."

Madame Pomfrey had stipulated that when she returned to her common room that evening, Cleobella and her friends would be there to walk her back. No one would be willing to attack her again when she was surrounded by her friends, or at least, the Professors surely thought so. Everyone, including Freddie, had started to treat her like she was made of glass. They tried to hide their worry, but she could read between the lines. Just like Evie did with her father.

But unlike with his previous bouts of paranoia - locking her in the house for most of the summer, cutting off their connection to the flu network - their fear was warranted. As of yet, the Professors had failed to find any evidence as to who might have cursed her - but they also must have had an inkling, based on Evie's limited account. He was still out there, somewhere. _In the Durmstrang ship._

Alexei Varga's honeyed smiles and soft voice had haunted her in her sleep. She had tried to picture him as her attacker on the staircase, carving that word into her arm. _Liar._ But just as she craned around in time to look into his eyes, to ask him why, that white light struck her and she stumbled. The world went dark and she could hear his soft voice as they waltzed. _'You're definitely more than meets the eye.'_

But had he really attacked her for it?

"I'm not putting on a brave face." But she was. "I feel better already. And if I start stumbling all over the place, I've got my very own ballerina and Slytherin Chaser to help me, haven't I?"

"But what about your very own Gryffindor beater?" Fred's brows dipped, his perfect nose crinkling as he moved to wrap his arms around her waist and gently lift her in some show of strength.

Evie let out a spluttering hiss, gritting her teeth at the slightest brush against her arm. Even with the pain, she was intoxicated by her sudden proximity once again to the curve of his lip, his freckled dimple, breathing against his chest. She had slept in his arms last night, and while nothing had happened between them but that, it would have been the most perfect night. _If it weren't for the nightmare._

As her mind replayed the dance with Alexei Varga, faces swirling around her and a white, agonising light sucking her down into the void - Fred let go off her, apologising profusely. "Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Its fine." Evie played it off, jokingly smacking him on the side. Even that was an effort. "You didn't hurt me. Anyway, don't you need to get back to your Common Room? Pomfrey isn't going to let us kick around here forever."

"I was leaving." Fred put up his hands. "Swear."

They both were. The Matron had told them five minutes earlier to pack up all of their stuff - which included a mountain of empty Chocolate Frog wrappers, which must have been brought up by Cleo at some point when Evie was asleep, and their Hogwarts robes. Evie and Fred had drawn their curtains, quickly got on their uniforms and were just pulling together the last of their belongings. The Hospital Wing now looked as pristine, all white and cotton, as it ever had.

Evie bit her lip. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. Breakfast?"

As he nodded at her, taking her arm like she was some grandmother and steering her through the doors of the Hospital Wing, Evie couldn't help but smile a little. After all, she had just spent the whole day with him. _And the night_. She would see him soon, daring to break territorial lines and eat with the Gryffindor's the next morning. It wouldn't stop her worry - but it certainly was something.

"Here." Fred handed her the bag stuffed with her robes and pyjamas. Evie stared at it baffled, unsure of when exactly he had slipped it from her shoulder and started carrying it. He kissed her gently on the crown of her head, chuckling. "See you later, Princess."

Evie's breath caught in her throat. It was a different sort of pain to that in her arm, for him to kiss her like that. _Sweetly, softly, like they were just friends._ "Stay away from Durmstrang."

"For you, I'll try. But I make no promises."

A high-pitched yelp came from down the corridor, followed by the frantic clip-clopping of a tiny Slytherin in very high heels. "Evie-baby!"

Evie turned from Fred to the swiftly approaching Cleo, who was soon skittering past the doors of the Hospital Wing with her arms outstretched. While her cousin looked as beautiful as ever, there was something rather dull about her appearance that evening. The coils in her shoulder length ebony hair had wilted, her lipstick had faded to a crimson wound and the underside of her eyes was slick with faint black. _Poor Cleo_. At her back, Ara, Safiya and Luc looked equally as lacklustre. Something about the sight of them ached in the alcove of her chest.

As Cleo shot at Evie like a dart, she briefly nodded at Fred. The gesture was small, near invisible to the other girls - but Evie saw it. There was an understanding there, something that had never willingly existed before. Not quite a truce, but it was a start.

Fred didn't let this relinquishing of old, foolish rivalries settle in the air. He turned on his heels, offering Evie one last careful, reassuring glance before he slunk off to Gryffindor Tower. Fred had to make up for two days of missed mischief making. _And his detention with McGonagall._

"Aw." Evie sucked in a sharp breath, grimacing as she met Luc's cold, green eyes over Cleo's shoulder. Cleo had her arms wrapped around her, fearing that Evie might vanish once again.

While Cleo started to apologise profusely, Evie was still watchful of Luc. The brunette was standing at the fray of the circle, her arms tightly crossed over her chest as she shifted her gaze from the intertwined Safiya and Ara, as the Seeker had seemingly burst into tears at the sight of Evie, to the Parkinson cousins. There was no humour there, no warmth. She was silent, simply staring.

"Merlin. Shit. I'm so sorry." Cleo jumped back, tottering on her black stilettoes.

She might have experienced a night of frantic worry, but Cleo forever dressed like she was a fur coat away from a dinner party. Something with bubbling champagne, the product of crushed pearls, drunk beneath sumptuous, glittering candlelight.

"It's fine, Cleo." Evie rubbed at her bandages. "Everything's fine, except my arm."

Luc's glossy, pink mouth twitched, her voice hard. "Everything is _not_ fine."

Safiya had one slim arm around Ara's shoulder, as the other girl wiped her eyes with the back of her emerald and silver quidditch jumper. With the other, she reached out and carefully touched Evie's wrist. With all the warmth, understanding and care she could muster, the often-distant Safiya said. "We'll find them."

"And I'll kill them." Cleo added, her eyes sparkling. "I'll hex them within an inch of their life and then I'll - oh, so you got the pyjamas then, Snape simply refused to update me on that. Couldn't have you wearing one of those ugly hospital gowns."

It was not the sight of Evie's silken night robes peaking out of the bag that hung from her shoulder that hindered Cleo's rant - it was a rather sharp look from Safiya, who seemed to have heard it before. Evie suspected that their night had been a long one, filled with a restless Cleo plotting her revenge on those who had hurt her cousin. If it had been Cleo that had been hurt, Evie knew she would have done much the same.

The group made their way out of the Hospital Wing's entrance hall, travelling back to the Slytherin dormitories through the maze of arching stone corridors in their pursuit of the easiest route. Cleo very gently put an arm around her waist, though Evie protested that she was as likely to make her fall thanks to those ridiculous shoes she was always wearing. All the same, Cleo stuck to her side as they walked down the near deserted halls of Hogwarts. It was past dinner, which meant that the vast majority of students had returned to their common rooms for the night. Evie couldn't help but be thankful for this little mercy, as it meant she wouldn't have to deal with prying, questioning, accusing eyes. Well, not quite yet.

Cleo babbled on about all that Evie had missed in some of their shared classes, which largely amounted to a couple of Yule Ball proposals and some incident with a cockatoo in Transfigurations. However, the acting Slytherin monarch pointedly avoided what was surely the largest source of gossip in their hallowed halls. _Evie's attack_.

As they travelled rather slowly down a corridor filled with musty Charms classrooms, following distant lamplight in their pursuit of the staircase, a figure darted out of a darkened room.

" _Expelliarmus._ "

Evie didn't see Cleo take out her wand, which likely meant she had kept it tightly clenched in the palm of her hand for the entire walk, tucked beneath the emerald folds of her sleeve. _It really is a protection squad._ For it was not just any unsuspecting student that had foolishly stepped out into the corridor and was now scrambling for their wand. It was Maximillian Rowle.

"Oh no you don't." Cleo snapped, flicking her wrist in the direction of a nearby doorway. " _Depulso_."

With this, the slick haired Rowle was forced through the door and taken in by the waiting darkness of the old Charms classroom. Cleo didn't turn back to Evie as she stormed in after him, assuming that they would follow her. While she suddenly felt flushed, her muscles flippantly rejecting every nebulous step, Evie followed her cousin.

Safiya, quick on her feet, had cast lumos. The soft light spread out from her wand, illuminating a few familiar rows of wooden desks and chairs. On the ground at the back of the classroom, back against the stone as he attempted to get to his feet, Rowle had been released by Cleo's banishing spell. He was not free for long, soon snatched up by enchanted ropes that crept across the dusty slate, curling around his ankles and wrapping him in their tight grip. Lucinda looked down at him, having been responsible for the spell, as though she was observing the dying struggle of a mouse in a cat's deadly claws. Her face only grew colder.

With Rowle now trust up in his bonds, the Slytherin girls stood in the shallow light in a circle around him. Safiya, now nearest to the door, pushed it shut and uttered a quiet charm. Ara had stopped crying, but she did not speak. As she looked down at him, shivering and getting ready to scream, and then up to their friends, Evie could understand her silence.

"I didn't see you at breakfast Maxy, or dinner last night." Cleo smiled down at Rowle, poking a heel into his chest. She seemed to be putting her weight into that lethal point, for he spluttered as she continued her sing-song taunt. "Where have you been?"

"Get those off of me you crazy-" Cleo pressed harder, twirling her wand in her hand. Rowle spoke quickly. "With McGonagall and Snape, obviously. Think I'm responsible for your little fall from a steep height and that thing on your arm."

The boy on the floor jutted his chin, one of the only parts of his body that he could move, in the direction of Evie. She stood near his feet, perfectly able to see every curl of his lip and that fluttering, panicked struggle for air as Cleo dug in her heel and the ropes seemed to compress around him. Evie touched her bandage, chewing the inside of her cheek.

_What are we doing?_ This was not how civil wizards carried out investigations, no matter how much they hated the suspect. They were acting like fucking Death Eaters.

Evie cut her moral ponderings short as Rowle tried to kick out at her, struggling against the ropes, as he spat. "Merlin, I wish I had been. But I didn't fucking do anything."

Evie felt stiff, frozen. The whole scene felt very distant to her, so far from mere minutes before in the glowing, soft Hospital Wing with Fred at her side. She didn't have to show her anger, her rage, her fear, or anything that she might have felt beneath her dislocated wrappings. Cleo was the one that let out a hiss, reaching down for Rowle's throat with her elegant, taloned manicure.

The dark-haired girl, bursting with rage that was strewn across her lovely features, was pushed out of the way. Luc fell into a crouch over Rowle's body. She held her wand like a knife, pricking the tip into her own forefinger. A bead of scarlet trickled down her wrist.

"If they think you're innocent Rowle, then the Professors weren't willing to go far enough to get a confession out of you. But we are." Evie realised that Luc hadn't just put too much pressure on her own broken skin as she pressed her wand against Rowle's cheek, drawing a fine spirt of blood. "But we are."

_'We are?'_

As Rowle let out a soft whimper, the standing girls met each other's shaking glances. Safiya stood still as stone, Ara lent against the taller girls chest and appeared to be softly weeping into her robes. But they didn't do anything, they didn't speak against whatever insanity had possessed Luc. Even Cleo remained silent, her mouth agape but her words draining out from her along with the colour in her cheeks. Luc often threatened violence on their behalf, but it was completely different to act on it like this.

"You're going to be in so much trouble if you lay a hand on me, you stupid bitch." With this, Rowle did in fact spit at Luc's upturned face.

He regretted this immediately as she said softly, tapping her wand against his quivering bottom lip, wiping the spit from her face. " _Silencio_."

It had to be a dream, a nightmare. Evie had progressed from haunting visions of her waltz with Alexei, crawled out from that white abyss and found herself in some fresh hell. She couldn't feel anything, do anything, bring herself to speak. Everything trickled past Evie as slowly as rain against her window, soft in their descent and suddenly frantic as they caught together. _We are going to get in trouble for this_. It was an effort to even get this thought out as she watched Luc smile at Rowle, as removed from her former self as Evie was from the scene.

" _Incendio_." The tip of Luc's wand burned a sickly amber. She pushed apart some of the ropes, exposing the pale flesh of Rowle's arm. He couldn't speak of course, but as the fire brushed closer, his eye's grew slick and glassy.

_Stop this_. Her vision had turned spotty. _Now._

_"Experlliarmus."_ Evie broke from their shared trance, suddenly very aware that her friend was about to burn one of their fellow students. _No, not burn. Brand. Like me._ "Luc, what the fuck are you doing?"

On her cue, Cleo and the others were once again animated. They watched Evie, awaiting her response in order to temper their own.

"My wand!" Luc snapped, her voice as high-pitched and ear splitting as ever. She struggled across the floor for her wand, that had thankfully rolled under a desk. As she tried to reach it, she turned to Evie and hissed. "I'm doing this for you! It's just us here Evangeline, stop pretending like you're some golden fucking Gryffindor. Fred can't see this."

She was right. _Fred can't see this. What would he think of me? Merlin, what do I think of me, of us?_

Evie's hand had locked unwillingly onto her wand, trapping her in her duelling pose. Her entire arm was seizing up, raw pain rippling up her bruised muscles and threw her scar. It blessed her with the sweet taste of iron in her mouth, a vignette of dizzy dark spots clouding her attempts to stare down the fuming Lucinda Carrow.

"Luc, I swear. If it weren't for the fucking curse in my arm, I'd hex you myself." It sounded vicious, even to Evie's own ears. "So you'd better watch yourself."

"He's done this to you." Luc had her wand now, ready in her palm. That wall of ice had melted away, revealing a spark behind those emerald eyes. She was shaking, grabbing at Rowle's ropes with her pale pink nails. _She looks fucking crazy._

" _He_ 's not done anything." Evie hissed. "This is all me." _All Slytherin_.

Is that what Luc had thought all this time, that she was becoming like a Gryffindor. Salazar, what did that even mean? Didn't Slytherin stand for something other than blood purity?

Evie knew that Fred hadn't changed her. A friendship, or whatever they were, couldn't fundamentally alter a person. He brought her out of her icy shell, encouraged her to stand up for herself against Cleo's reign. But all along, it was nestled in there, between a rib and a hard place. No, she was not becoming like a Gryffindor. None of Hogwarts' golden children would go as far as she was willing too, scar burning and blood in her mouth.

"Not so high and mighty?" Luc was prodding at Rowle with her wand, pushing her short brown curls from her face with a shaking hand. "Unlike them, you know this is justice."

Her voice soft, Evie uttered. "This isn't justice."

Luc's parental figures were all Death Eaters, everyone knew that, whether they would admit it or not. Her grandmother, her aunt and uncle, they all had that same hard look in their eyes that Luc shared as she prodded Rowle - if he was the mouse, she was the cat. They might have taught Luc that retribution was the most fitting punishment, but that did not make this justice. Yes, Evie believed in revenge, but not like this. _A scar for a scar, a curse for a curse._ If they were to catch the culprit, to punish them, it would be at her hands. She would not join in with this dampened impression of a Death Eater.

It simply wasn't her style.

"What do you mean?" Ara said between fluttering gulps, looking up from her ignorant, blinded position against Safiya's shoulder.

"He isn't guilty. Its not a crime to be a git, we can't torture him for that." Evie kicked Rowle's foot, he stared up at her. "If he had been, it wouldn't be Luc having all the fun. Got it?"

Cleo's brows furrowed, she grabbed a handful of her wilted dark curls. "What do you mean he's not guilty! It has to have been him!"

They were all staring at her now, clearly wondering if she had hit her head against the staircase and even Madame Pomfrey hadn't been able to repair the damage. They might have been the one's ready to torture, but Evie had a cell in St. Mungo's with her name on it.

"It was a non-verbal spell, a powerful dark charm." Her anger was fizzling now, she wanted to be far from the scene of this crime. Rowle might not have been able to speak, but even he was listening to her intently. "Look at him. Do you really think Rowle, who barely passed OWL level Charms, came up with a scheme to do this."

Evie rolled up the sleeve of her black robes, pushing up her bandages to expose the crimson red words on her arm, edged in an inky black, to their curious eyes. Ara let out a little shriek, sticking her head back on Safiya's shoulder. Safiya herself simply gulped, while Cleo's eyes welled with tears. Only Luc looked away, dipping her head so that her blunt hair covered her pooling eyes, no longer steeled.

"McGonagall said that there were witnesses who reported that he wasn't on the stairs when I was...attacked. He isn't clever enough for this."

"Maybe he had help." Luc twirled her wand in her palm, still refusing to meet Evie's gaze or her scar. Her voice was trembling. _She had to find something that would point to Rowle, or else she had just attacked an innocent boy_.

Cleo shook her head, frowning at Rowle's slimy face. He had deflated a little bit, no longer silently screaming. "But no one fucking likes him."

"His revenge was spreading around gossip, making someone finally believe in the shit he's been spouting about me for years."

"So he is guilty." Luc and Cleo echoed one another.

"Look, if you're getting some sort of enjoyment out of taking him down a peg, I'm not going to try and stop you again." Evie sighed, folding her arms across her chest. She soon realised that this only made her arm ache more, so she found herself unfolding them. "It's not going to bring me any sort of satisfaction, I've already punched him in the face once."

This only added to their confusion. _I should have said hexed._

"There is a difference between spreading rumours and plotting to assault someone, to brand them." They might have been angry, they might have been afraid, but she wasn't going to let her friends go through with this. It was like they thought they needed to do it all for her, to guard her and act for her. But that was the last thing Evie would ever want.

They all looked up at her, a flicker of guilt behind their eyes.

"When I find that person, it won't be any of you that gets to deal with them." Evie said simply. "It'll be me. But right now, I just want to get to bed."

With this, just like Fred, Evie turned on her heels and slowly began to make her way out of the room. Her pace wasn't just for dramatic effect, even that small outburst had left her feeling winded. The others lingered there with the question of how exactly they ought to deal with their thoroughly terrified suspect.

In a deflated tone, Luc got to her feet and asked. "Cleo, can you..."

Evie turned lightly, watching as Cleo slipped her wand from her sleeve and pointed it down at Rowle. She bit her scarlet lip, contemplating Luc's request for a moment. Cleo was the best at charms, they all knew that. " _Obliviate_."

Rowle's lashes fluttered, his expression growing slack as he fell into a thoughtless oblivion. He wouldn't remember how exactly he had ended up in the empty Charms classroom, perhaps he would think he had fallen asleep in their hiding from Cleo and her gang. It was better than the alternative.

"But I'm leaving the ropes. And the silencing charm. He's still a git." Cleo mused, smoothing down her curls as she trotted over to Evie. "Night night Rowle."

Evie sighed. If he reported it to Snape, the Potion's Master would almost certainly knew that Cleo had been responsible. She shrugged, letting Cleo take her healthy arm. That was a problem for later. _And he is a git._

As Cleo held open the door for Evie, Safiya extinguished the light and followed them out into the corridor. Ara moved with her, still pinned to her side but no longer crying. Luc was the last to emerge through the door, receiving a single nod from Cleo, before she fell in at her side. They all had different ways of dealing with their emotions, Luc just happened to be a bit temperamental _._

_And crazed_ , Evie took the girls hand, _but we've always known that._

"I'm sorry."Luc gulped, wiping a tear from her eye. "Who do you think did it then, if it wasn't Rowle?"

Cleo could read Evie's expression, as easy as she could recognise her own reflection in the mirror.

"You think it was Alexei, don't you?" Cleo said in a crushed whisper, her tawny stare begging for Evie to say anything else. Then she closed her eyes for a brief moment, bit her lip and snarled. "Give me half a chance, I'll do much worse to him...if its true."

They were alone in the corridor, but Evie still felt a prickle on the back of her neck. The tips of her ears burned. Her aunt always said that it was an omen that somewhere out there, someone was talking about you.

"It might not be Alexei." Evie couldn't be sure, not just yet. She hadn't had the chance to flesh out a plan, not when she was wrapped up in Fred's arms. She had been...distracted from it all. "It could be anyone that believed in the rumours, or someone with a grudge. But 'liar' makes it seem-"

"Personal." Cleo finished.

Pinching the space between her brows, Evie felt a phantom tremor in her arm. Madame Pomfrey had warned her of the lingering affects of whatever curse had been used. The Professors were not entirely certain, even Flitwick had noted that he would have to do some research. It did not give Evie much faith in them, if they couldn't even identify the curse, how could they find the curser?

"Can we just not do this right now?"

She didn't exactly want to have to recap all of her interactions with Alexei, all of his flirting glances, suggestions that he would take her to the Yule Ball. Then much worse, his near dropping her during the Waltz when she had joked about Rowle telling Ivon she was a Squib. Like her touch could taint him. _I guess I'll have to tell them back in the dorm. Cleo won't let this go, can't just let me handle it. Just like Fred._

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." Cleo said weakly, taking a few steps down the corridor.

"I've already spoken to Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, Pomfrey, all of them this morning." Evie added, hoping that they wouldn't think she was dismissing them all. She was just so tired all of a sudden. "Let's go back to the Common Room, I swear I'll tell you all everything I know. But later."

"The thing about the common room is-" Cleo began, soon interrupted by Safiya who was in the process of taking off her robe to reveal her blinding white shirt beneath. "Everyone knows Evie, they're all talking about it."

"Oh." _Right, I expected this_. Evie still felt like she was getting kicked while down. _It did happen on the massively crowded staircase, and I am a Rothchild. And Cleo's best friend._

"Well, it got a lot worse after they dragged away Rowle yesterday, the Professors..." Luc spoke in her usual sugary tone, rushing through her words. "Some people think it means the rumours he was spreading might have actually been true, so he did something about it."

Safiya smacked her in the shin with an elegant, silk slipper clad foot. Luc squeaked, no longer possessed by whatever mad woman had gotten into her minutes before. _Probably her grandmother._

"That doesn't make any sense!" Evie protested.

"Yeah, I've been telling them all that." Cleo sighed. "Rowle's been saying that stuff for forever, but he's never done anything about it before. I thought maybe he might have finally went for it because of your new friendship with those blood tra- the Weasleys, but I did consider that someone else might have believed in his rebound gossip."

_Like Alexei._

Luc sniffed. "Then there is also the Durmstrang thing."

"What Durmstrang thing!"

"Well, everyone kind of heard about, or even saw, Fred trying to punch Alexei on the deck of the Durmstrang ship - and then when Alexei went down, how Katrine hit him right back and started shouting about how Alexei was innocent." It was Ara who had spoken, her hand still intertwined with Safiya but her voice smooth enough for speech. "Some people think that Fred falsely accused him, without any evidence, and that's an insult to them, their honour. Which is seems is a big deal, especially because he's a Varga. So they're annoyed at you two - you and Fred, I mean."

Evie felt numb again. _Shit._

"Sorry, that sounded really harsh." Ara winced.

As bad news loves company, this was not the end of it.

"There are also some people, mostly our lot, that think Durmstrang might be guilty. I mean, we agree, but I wanted to get it all out of Rowle first. He was still my top pick." Cleo continued. "They're all going on about how Slytherin don't turn on their own, mad at Durmstrang for trying to turn it back on us. I went down to the ship, after Fred." Cleo put a hand to her chest, stretching out her fingers like she was clawing at herself in disbelief. "And Dimitri, the first thing he's said to me in like ever, was that ' _You Slytherin should look closer to home.'_ Ugh!"

Safiya flared her nostrils. She never liked Cleo's long-winded explanations. She kept things short. "Slytherin are mad at Durmstrang. Durmstrang ar'e mad at Slytherin."

_Fuck._ Evie reached out to grab Cleo's arm, scrunching her sleeve in her fist. The pain of that movement kept her grounded in a single thought. _This is very, very bad._

"Not everyone is mad at Durmstrang." Cleo patted her on the wrist, forcing her pretty face to smile. It didn't reach her eyes. "Especially not when so many Slytherin were asked to the Yule Ball by Durmstrang kids during dance practise yesterday. They're just...trying to ignore it all."

Was that why Cleo and Luc had so vehemently believed that it had to have been Rowle? Then they would have been free to overlook the curse and dance with their Durmstrang prince charmings to their hearts content. _They might have even made it into Greengrass._

Merlin, she wished she was back in the Hospital Wing with Freddie.

"So you're telling me that I've not only been cursed." Evie looked into the faces of each of her friends, though they had their flaws, they were loyal to a fault. _Her protection squad_. "Slytherin and Durmstrang may or may not be at war?"

"War is dramatic." Safiya shrugged. "We 'ave a new rival."

Luc nodded. "Maybe there's a silver lining. Now we have someone to hate, other than Gryffindor."

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Thank you for reading!
> 
> Up on my wattpad (this_pendent_world), I have a book titled 'The Power of Youth | A Character Index'. If you're interested in finding out more about any of the OC's or their version of the Wizarding World (including explanations of life at Dursmtrang), you'll find it there (and a bit later, in the fic itself)!


	19. Wrecking Ball in the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it is not the threat of an oncoming bludger that frightens Evie most.

_**"**_ _ **I am unruly in the stands**_ /  
 _ **I am a rock on top of the sand**_ /  
 _ **I am a fist amidst the hands**_ /  
 _ **And I break it**_ /  
 _ **Just because I can."**_

_**Mother Mother, 'Wrecking Ball'** _

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**November, 1993. [Fifth Year]**

"At least if we were watching Slytherin, this would be bearable!" Cleo fluffed the damp curls of her hair, like a poodle tossed in the wind, before she thought better of it and snapped. "Actually no. This is torture!"

Evie tried not to snort at this. _Even if it was Slytherin, it's all still quidditch to her_.

They were sitting in one of the front rows of the Slytherin quidditch stand. On a typical match weekend, the Slytherin girls would have ruled over the prime spots. They were perfectly positioned to have a great view of the rolling acres of green grass and open sky that made up the pitch, boxed in by the wooden steeples of the House stands.

However, this was not the case. Due to the torrential rain that had been ruthlessly ripping through Hogwarts all week, they could make out little more than a few canary-yellow and scarlet splodges, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff quidditch teams, as they raced on their brooms between crackling rolls of thunder and a blinding shower of rain.

"I did say you could just stay in the Common Room."

Ara was standing outside of the faltering repellent spell Cleo had cast over their friends. It was all so that she could get a slightly better view of Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell as they scored yet another goal for Gryffindor. Her dark amber curls were near standing on end, she was soaked to her skin, but Ara kept smiling as she shouted over the thunder. "Sit by the fireplace and avoid all this."

"Its not that much warmer in the Common Room." Evie nudged Cleo, hoping to encourage her cousin with her grumble, but also intending to steal more of the large woollen blanket they were supposed to be sharing. _Emphasis on supposed to be._

"I think you're enjoying this too much." Cleo said in a voice more frosty than their dormitory at night. Her eyes slit as she tried to mend her curls with one finger, teasing them into submission. Using her other wand clasped hand, Cleo reinforced her spell once again, as a droplet landed on the tip of her nose. " _Repellio_!"

Evie frowned at her, snatching more of the blanket. "What?"

"Oh you know what I'm talking about." Cleo quipped back, as though she thought Evie was simply playing coy. "He's of doing loop de loops near our stand, isn't he? Ridiculous as it is, I suppose you're friends now - but now he's clearly trying to rub _your_ lack of judgement in _my_ face!"

 _Fred_ , Evie soon realised from Cleo's huffing tone, _she's talking about Fred Weasley._

It had been a week since that Halloween night where Evie had sat with the Gryffindors, abandoning Cleo for over an hour to play Exploding Snap with Fred and his friends. To Evie, it had been strange, as she hadn't expected to find herself leaning so much into her new friendship with Fred Weasley (especially not in public.) But to Cleo, it had been the night her most beloved cousin became a turncoat - something that she wasn't willing to just get over and would annoyingly bring up whenever she saw Evie so much as glance at Fred.

Evie had told her cousin that she would simply just need to live with the fact that over the course of their detention, their antagonistic relationship had changed. They would talk to each other in class sometimes, wave in the corridor, the previous morning Fred had even came over to chat to her during breakfast. In Cleo's eyes, these were all crimes against her House. Evie might as well have suggested they used Salazar Slytherin's grave as a bathroom.

"Cleo, he's just trying to stop the bludgers hitting anyone!" Evie touched the side of her face, hoping that Merlin would give her strength.

She had in fact noticed that Fred had been hanging around the Slytherin stand a lot that game. _But that didn't mean he was trying to piss off Cleo. Why would he do that?_ For all Evie knew, this sort of behaviour was just his usual. After all, this was Gryffindor's first game of the season, and also the first in which Evie was paying more than a smidge of attention as to what anyone but Ara was doing on the pitch.

Fred had actually knocked away quite a few bludgers in their proximity. He and his twin seemed to be spending a lot of the game, from what anyone could see of what was happening, flexing their skills in the downpour and getting praised for it in Lee Jordan's booming commentary.

 _But it doesn't mean he's trying to show off_ , Evie wrapped the blanket around her freezing shoulders and kept her eyes glued to a distant scarlet dot, _maybe he's just good._

"I could hex him off the broom if you want?" Luc, who sat on Cleo's other side, muttered under her breath, clearly thinking her voice would be turned into a mere whisper by the wind. In the silence after some thunder, it was not.

It carried over to Evie, who ripped the little ration of the blanket Luc had away from her as punishment for that remark. Cleo's scarlet lip twitched, clearly forgetting for a moment that her hair was a mess and she was half-frozen, all thanks to the thought of a bolt of scarlet causing Fred to tumble from his broom. Perhaps into a large, cold, puddle of sludge below.

Whipping around, Ara reprimanded Luc. "You will not!"

Safiya had been sitting in utter silence at the very front of the stand, holding a struggling umbrella over herself and the excitable Ara who kept jumping outside of it to cheer. It seemed that Evie's recent stance against old House rivalries had also had an affect on the Slytherin Chaser - for she had been openly cheering for every goal that the skilled Angelina Johnson scored.

It seemed Safiya had grown tired of watching this. Her beautiful face pinched as she hissed in reply to Luc's offer. "But if you wanted to h'it Johnson."

"What?" Ara turned back to her best friend, surveying her with a curious eye.

Only Evie had noticed that Safiya had been more sullen than usual during this match - for she only enjoyed Quidditch if Ara was playing. The other girl simply shrugged, twirling the umbrella with a delicate twist of her wrist and spraying the nearby Cassius Warrington in the process.

"Or Potter."

This bitter snap had come from Draco Malfoy, who was sitting at the far end of their row with Pansy Parkinson. Cleo's little sister had spent the last week cooing and gently patting the boy, her eyes welling up with sympathy whenever she so much as glanced at the cast on his arm - he had gotten into a bit of a scrape with some beast in Care of Magical Creatures. All the Slytherin knew the story, for Draco was very willing to tell it again and again. At breakfast, lunch, dinner. News of Draco's torment, which seemingly meant he couldn't play as seeker, was inescapable.

Evie and Cleo tilted their heads, watching carefully as Draco removed his wand from his sleeve and jokingly imitated hexing Harry Potter - who was struggling in his role as Seeker thanks to the rain - right off his broom. Pansy simply moved their large umbrella to make sure rain didn't catch on the pale haired boys cast.

"I thought your arm was hurting Draco, isn't that why we're all out here having to watch Hufflepuff play?" Cleo's rage had a new outlet.

Draco Malfoy's cheeks burned red as he shrugged of this accusation, which all of the Slytherin stand had heard.

Cleo, rather enjoying tearing him down a peg, then shook her head at her little sister, her sarcasm dripping. "Having fun playing nurse Pansy? Should I write to Mummy and tell her you're thinking of becoming a healer?"

"Shut up, Cleo!" Pansy was so enraged that her hand had slipped on the umbrella, leaving whining Draco to the torrent of rain and thunder.

Evie snorted at her younger cousin. _He's laying it on thick and she's just eating it up._ " _Accio,_ umbrella."

As the large umbrella slammed into Evie's open palm and she offered it to Luc and Cleo, not that she felt as though she ought to be the apologetic one, a whistling screech interrupted the brawl that was brewing in the Slytherin stand. Evie turned, realising that Harry Potter had once again flown close to their stand - on his heels, near invisible in the rain before it crashed into a player, was a bludger.

_Shit._

Ara, ever swift on her feet, pulled Safiya and herself down below the edge of the stand. Harry Potter was similarly quick in rubbing at his water-logged glasses, noting the oncoming ball and dipping out of sight.

But the bludger continued to thunder towards the Slytherins - it was on the war path, unhindered by the sleets of rain or the blinding flashes of thunder.

A bolt of scarlet and gold rose into a defensive position before the Slytherin stand - he bore the beater's bat in his tightly fisted, gloved hands. Fred Weasley didn't flinch as the enchanted bolder thundered towards him. He sat in wait, drawing back his bat at just the right moment to strike the bludger. It hurled its way across the pitch, narrowly avoided by Cedric Diggory and the other Hufflepuffs. The aching sound of this positively cosmic ripple tore through their ears, louder than the proceeding roll of distant thunder. A current of electricity seeped through the air and caught in Evie's flushed cheeks.

Cleo had pulled frantically on Evie's black jacket, having already curled herself down into a defensive ball to avoid the bludger. Most of the students in the front row had done the same. But the Slytherin girl had just sat there, merely waiting for Fred to show up. For she knew, she just knew he would.

Having saved the Slytherin, Fred twisted around on his broom. As the only one still standing, not in the process of unscrambling from their frantic search for cover, Evie shook her head at him. She had to bite her lip to stop from laughing as she watched him look over the Slytherin, no longer so high and mighty as they held onto one another and ducked for cover. His sparkling eyes said it all. _'Really?'_

She mouthed back, rolling her eyes. _'Thanks'._

He winked, soaring back into the unseen field of thunder and blinding deluge. Evie followed him, her scarlet dot, for as far as she could.

"Ugh, see what I mean!" Cleo shot back up, smoothing down her hair as she took possession of Pansy and Draco's umbrella. "He's showing off for you!"

She was looking at Evie with firm disapproval in her eyes, which was now a familiar sight. It no longer bothered Evie so much. Her whole world didn't have to rest on Cleobella's every whim. It never did.

Evie didn't have anything to say to this. They were friends now, just friends. She rolled over in her thoughts that wink, knowing and familiar, like a pearl. _He was showing off for her?_ She doubted it, but for whatever reason the flush in her cheeks had only grown brighter.

She could admit that Fred Weasley was handsome, but that was old news. Evie had seen him in her classes for the past five years, she had listened to the girls whisper in the corridors about how funny and hot the Weasley twins were. Granted, she rarely heard this openly coming from a Slytherin - but they must have agreed with this universal consensus, right?

Evie bit down on her lip, shaking her head at Cleo. Her cousin was utterly ridiculous. Being friends was one thing, liking a Gryffindor was something else entirely. Something that she simply refused to give into. The Slytherin would ignore how his firm muscles were suddenly more visible beneath the slick of his damp quidditch jersey. She could kill every butterfly that fluttered in her stomach when their gazes locked, his eyes burning. Yes, she would simply brew the antidote for any flicker of romantic feeling that she might have felt for Fred.

_Because she had to, she just had to._

"Ugh, Oliver Wood is kind of cute, isn't he. I wish he wasn't a Gryffindor, or a half-blood." Luc let out a wailing lament, her eyes on the passing Quidditch Captain.

He was a Gryffindor. A blood traitor. Dating him would surely make her more suspicious in the eyes of the ever watchful Sacred 29. She couldn't do that to herself, to her worried father.

Evie recited it. _Gryffindor. Blood traitor. Trouble_. Then a different voice crept in, his singular call soft and teasing. ' _Princess.'_ Evie couldn't brush him aside. _And he smells like_ _fireworks and makes my cold soul feel like its been set alight. Like I'm burning from the inside out._

Cleo snatched back some of the blanket, snapping Evie out of her doubts. _I can't, I just can't like Fred Weasley_.

She fruitlessly tried to seek out her scarlet dot on the rainy field. _Besides, he's just a flirt. He doesn't like me. I'm still a Slytherin - Gryffindor would never let it happen._

Evie didn't get to see Fred again for the rest of the quidditch game. Very soon Oliver Wood had called half time, herding his squad into the changing rooms so that they could talk over their strategy. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had barely made it back into the air before a sinister, freezing mist had spread across the pitch. With the guardians of Azkaban breaching the game, Harry Potter was soon tumbling through the sky, seeking earth like a shooting star.

When the outrage subsided, Evie followed the crowd back up to the frosty Slytherin dungeons. Disappointment, like a dementor's chill, crept into her heart and nested there.

_On Godric's grave, I don't actually like Fred Weasley, do I?_

* * *

**♡♡♡**


	20. The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a truth potion sheds some light.

**"** **_Mend your speech a little._ **  
**_Nothing will come of_ ** **_nothing_ ** **."**

**Shakespeare** **,** **_King Lear_ **

**♡♡♡**

* * *

_Dearest Evangeline,_

_I endeavour to keep this brief._

_We have failed to make any true progress with our most pressing case (which I will not detail here, for you know we must employ 'constant vigilance'.) I told the Office that I would remain in London for the holidays in order to continue to offer my aid - nothing dangerous._

_As I cannot escort you, you may either spend Christmas at school or with your Aunt. This decision is yours, though I warn you, she is once again hosting the Malfoys, the extended Rosiers, etc.. Colleagues have made plain that their own children will be spending Christmas at school thanks to the Ball, and that this is the course for many._

_But regardless of whatever frivolities the Tournament has come to entail, I know that you will not be overjoyed to read this. Know that I am not thrilled at the prospect of spending my own Christmas away from home with Shacklebolt and his lot. Though, perhaps, whatever I can find down there will far outrank Ruffles cooking._

_Please do not write back with the suggestion that you could stay alone at the Manor, I will not allow it (and send an owl to your Aunt, as I have wilfully avoided this task.)_

_Stay safe, A. C. R_

_(P.S - I shouldn't need to add this final note, but I will. Be wary of Durmstrang.)_

* * *

**December, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

Evangeline Rothchild read slowly through the letter from her father once again. She held the thick parchment up to the nearby candelabra, hoping that the dwindling flame might reveal more of the invisible ink. _Why is he always so cryptic!_

Letters from Andrew Rothchild were sparse - with every delivery, he was forced to overcome his animosity towards the insecure nature of owl post. When Evie had turned from her rapidly cooling cup of tea to see her prideful black owl, Chauntecleer, soaring down from the rafters of the Great Hall to deliver a letter bound in a forest green envelope, her heart had leapt into her throat. The contents were to Evie, as her father had predicted, far from joyous - but they were not what she had feared upon tearing into the envelope with shaking hands.

_Thank Merlin for that at least_.

No, Andrew Rothchild had not somehow managed to barter for intel of his daughter, learning that she had recently been attacked by someone who doubted her blood-status. Who thought her a liar.

It had taken some rather demeaning pleading to coax the Professors and Madame Pomfrey into hiding this. They were all familiar with feared Auror Rothchild in some way or other - through his year as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, or his well-reported on reputation. They knew that if he thought his daughter in any sort of danger, Evangeline would have spent the rest of her life trapped in Rothchild Manor - a home-schooled witch! In turn, all of the teachers had begrudgingly agreed, informing Evie that her father would likely find out eventually, but that decision could remain with her. Even Professor Snape, ever strict and sour faced, had given in. He had snapped at Pomfrey and McGonagall that he only agreed as without Evie, the grades in his NEWT level Potion and Alchemy classes would turn out 'intolerably sloppy'. From him, this was high praise.

_But not going home for Christmas!_ Rothchild Manor might have been sleepily dull and frosted, but she cherished those rare times when her father was free of work and they could sit around the house together. Until two years ago, they had spent every Christmas Eve to New Year with the Parkinsons - a tradition which the Rothchilds were glad to have escaped. Carving out some time free of visiting pureblood families, exchanging ridiculously lavish gifts and playing lengthy games of wizard's chess with distant relatives. They had bartered their way into simply dining and exchanging gifts at Parkinson Manor. _And I'm not going back on that!_

"What did he say then?" Cleo yawned into a spoonful of almond porridge, watching Evie pull back the letter, unchanged, from the heat of the flame. _Why is he now warning me about Durmstrang?_

While she herself preferred to sleep late, Cleobella had woken Evangeline incredibly early that morning and dragged her to breakfast. After the commotion that her arrival had caused in the Slytherin Common Room the previous night, it was clear that Cleo hoped a very early start to Evie's day would shield her from more prying eyes and whispers. She had roped a few unlucky guard dogs into joining them for breakfast, staking out a spot on the Slytherin table, were she kept watch over the door - daring any unwitting Durmstrang student to try and enter.

With Cleo's plan soon plummeting from its lofty aspirations, it now simply meant that they were so early that Evie wouldn't get to eat breakfast with Fred. He had no idea of this clever plot and was likely cosy and asleep in Gryffindor Tower. In his absence, Lucinda and Pansy made up the rest of their group, and entirely lacked in his smirkingly savage wit or charm. They were both eating toast and shooting daggers at passing students.

"You're not going to like it." Evie knew that she would have to phrase this carefully, or risk Cleo snatching the letter and discovering the truth for herself. "He wants to work over Christmas, says I have to stay at school."

The spoon clinked against the golden bowl. "What!"

This outburst immediately had more eyes, if that were possible, on the group of Slytherin girls. Of the less than fifty or so students that were presently dining in the Great Hall, they had all turned to Evie at some point during breakfast - there reactions, as expected, all differed. Pity, fear, anger, worry, or most interestingly of all, annoyance. The girls had not been mistaken in informing Evie that there was serious animosity directed towards Durmstrang for their believed part in Evie's attack, but also at Evie herself. All of it resulted in a burning sensation of everyone watching her - which whether they felt pity or hatred - all boiled down to a sharp prick on the back of her neck and a whinging ache as her muscles tensed.

"You're joking, right?" Pansy huffed so hard that her breath moved the tangles of her sharp, short black hair. She hadn't taken Cleo's call for back-up as seriously as the now strangely vigilant Luc, and had spent their meal attempting to fix the broken charm on her fading 'Potter Stinks' badge. "Mummy sent an owl yesterday saying that she just got our Christmas party dresses back from the tailor. We're matching, again. If you don't come, it'll just be me and Cleo that look like frilly wedding toppers!"

"How unfortunate." Evie took a sip of her cold tea. "If he can't 'escort' me from the castle, I'll have to dress like a normal witch."

Given the choice between the cold Slytherin dungeons and another lengthy Christmas break spent under the watchful eye of her Aunt, who did in fact rejoice at parading her daughters and niece around to every other pureblood home dressed in their finest, frilliest get-ups - well, Evie would pick Hogwarts. This decision was made simpler by the fact that the letter declared that her Aunt would be hosting the other pureblood families this year, which meant she would have been forced to seek solace with the House Elves as the Malfoys, Rosiers, Carrows, and the rest drank wine and complained about the state of the wizarding world. Even Cleo, Pansy and Luc's presence couldn't make that bearable.

"You can't stay here for Christmas." Luc declared, shooting daggers at a nearby Ravenclaw girl that was pointing at Evie, and Evie had been pointedly ignoring her.

Ever since her outburst with Rowle yesterday, or her hysteric lapse into insanity if you were being technical about it, Luc had been acting differently. She hadn't spoken very much since they had returned to the Common Room, marching Evie through the crowd with her body wound tightly, before turning in for the night. Evie suspected, or hoped, that she was embarrassed by her behaviour.

While Ara's branch of the Rosier family preferred to celebrate privately at their home in Durham, Luc was always invited to the Parkinson House for Christmas - largely owing to the fact that they were neighbours in the remote Scottish Highlands. Luc, unlike Pansy, didn't have anything to fear in Evie's absence. She would love to be Cleo's true second-in-command for once. _Right?_

"I mean, I don't have a choice." Evie motioned to the letter, her father's words fading as the parchment cooled. Her little white lie had vanished. "I can't be at the Manor alone, supposedly, so I'm stuck here. You know he's...antsy about stuff."

Before Evie could turn her head, Pansy had thrown her seemingly unfixable Potter Stinks badge at some nearby Gryffindor boy. He yelped, ducking under the table in fear of further attack. Pansy merely hissed, motioning a sharp slit across her neck as she stared down his friends. _Where they even talking about me or was this just a Gryffindor thing?_

"Evie, he thinks your safe at school." Luc said slowly, each word bringing realisation. "He doesn't know about your attack."

Cleo turned to Luc, glancing over her with a curious eye - the same that had stared at her in utter befuddlement during that slip up of her usual sugary demeanour, revealing unfeeling stone beneath. Even Evie had not expected such an astute observation from Luc, while Pansy shrugged, tossing a middle finger up at the Gryffindor.

For Lucinda was right. Her father, thanks to her begging and pleading with the Professors, believed Hogwarts to be the safest place in the world for his daughter (well, next to the Manor). He did not know that their stone walls had been invaded, darkness slithered in dressed in crimson and trimmed in fur.

"You're right." Perhaps she should have just given in - got on the matching taffeta gown, donned the family pearls and smiled and made small talk with ex Death Eaters. It certainly would have been easier. "But almost everyone is staying for Christmas, you've seen the sign-up sheet in the Common Room. Safiya had to flip it over and write her name on the back. I'll have her and Ara, the Professors, the Slytherin that don't hate me. I should be safe."

There was one person she would not have. Fred Weasley was supposed to be heading home on Boxing Day. Or at least, that had been his plan.

"You _should_ be safe." Cleo insisted. "Just like you should have been safe on the way to Charms, and then some psycho went for you."

"Then I'll try and not leave the Common Room. I'll hang out with Saf and Ara all day everyday, eat turkey and piles of bread pudding, play chess and watch the merpeople through our window. You could all stay here too."

Pansy made a sound like she was choking, her upturned nose letting out a snort. Though she spoke in her monotonous voice, there was a thick smearing of sarcasm blended in with her shallow tone. "Mummy, let _us_ stay here for Christmas? She would sooner marry a Mudblood."

It was a hopeless endeavour. But it was always worth a shot.

"You know what." Cleo began. "I'll write to Mummy, I'll even write to Uncle, and tell them that you'll be coming home with us for the holidays. Our house is perfectly safe, I can even apparate us there!"

Merlin, Evie could just see it. The three of them dressed in blinding emerald beneath the shimmering chandeliers of the Manor, sipping from ancient goblets and stepping carefully. She could almost smell her Aunt's overpowering perfume, the sweaty heat of the hidden kitchens, glazed meats and sugared almonds-

Evie was promptly broken out of this Christmas premonition by Lillian Pucey, who shot out from a crowd of young Slytherin girls that had just entered the Great Hall.

Tears streaming down her face, she screamed at Evie. "You've ruined everything!"

"What?"

Cleo was out of her seat, trapped on the other side of the table as she readied her wand and watched the Slytherin girls attach themselves to Lillian's back like a leech. Pansy, however, who sat next to Evie, was on her feet.

"My brother won't let me go to the ball with Klaus all because of you!" The Fourth Year said between dramatic sobs, her face stained red and mascara making its way down her soft cheeks and into the lines of her palms. "If you had just stayed- stayed away from them, none of this would have happened!"

As Evie lay in her bed last night, tucked in the silk sheets and staring up at the oak ceiling of her headboard, Cleo had listed all of those who had publicly denounced Durmstrang and believed one of them, likely Alexei, to have attacked Evie. _Warrington, Malfoy, Gaunt but not yet Accrington_... and yes, Pucey had been within their numbers. It seemed that Adrian had taken his annoyance with Durmstrang's slight at their House's purity very personally.

"Lillian, shut the fuck up and get out of here." Pansy took Lillian Pucey by the shoulder, smiled and shoved her so hard that she stumbled back into her watchful group of friends.

"No!" The girl recovered quickly, only to shrink back as she met Pansy's eye. Evie's younger cousin looked ready to start swinging, her hands clenched into fists. "Just because you have Draco, doesn't mean that everyone else wants to go with one of our own. I already bought a dress to match his robes!"

"With your sense of fashion, Evie's spared us an eye-sore." Luc hissed, surveying the younger girls ugly striped hairband and badly done lipstick that was now horribly smeared on her teary cheeks.

"Don't blame her for this! Evie was hexed, you nitwit, by one of those Durmstrang gits who probably listened to Rowle's rubbish." Cleo didn't bother to point her wand at Lillian or her shivering friends, her cool tone and dark eyes were enough. "Rubbish, that if I remember correctly, you were spreading around last year. So I don't care about your dress, or your Viktor. I would leave now, before I make you."

Lillian bit her lip, glancing from Cleo, to Luc, to Pansy and then finally to Evie herself. At her back, Evie recognised some of the shuffling girls. Of course, there was Marcus Flint's little sister and Zoe Accrington's cousin - for they, unlike Adrian Pucey, had yet to openly side against Durmstrang. A memory of them accosting Ivon in Honeydukes, whispering about Evie in the isles and eyeing Alexei flooded her vision. Of course they would blame her. They already thought her a no good half-breed _. Too impure for a pureblood Lord. So she deserved what she got?_

"Don't pout, it makes you look like a frog." Cleo added at Lillian's shifting expression. The older girl's face lit up, but it was not a comforting glow - a fearsome white light broke out from within Cleo, as sharp as her teeth that hid her cutting tongue. "Put a smile on your face and march your arse out of here. Have some pride in your House, stay away from Durmstrang. That goes for all of you."

They seemed to realise their mistake in messing with Cleo, if they had not already gotten themselves in knots over Pansy's glare. With a single huff, shooting a final frown at Evie, the girls turned and stormed out of the Great Hall.

"Cleo, we can't so openly throw around accusations like that." Evie began, trying to coax her friends into sitting back down again. "It wasn't all of Durmstrang, it was-"

Or at least, she was near positive it was just...

"Alexei, spit it out." Cleo threw herself back down onto her wooden seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. "They're all cut from the same cloth."

Yes, so she thought Alexei guilty. But weaponizing his guilt against the entirety of Durmstrang, furthering the war brewing between their two ancient institutions, that was to no one's benefit. It especially wasn't beneficial to Evie, who didn't need anyone else staring, shouting or openly weeping at her for something that she had no control over. For Cleo was right in one instance, it was ridiculous to blame her for her own attack. _Spoiled Ball date or not - he attacked me!_

Rather than responding to Cleo, Evie swiped a piece of toast off of Pansy's growing pile, slathered with raspberry jam and sugary sweet, and chewed on the corner. On any other morning, she would have devoured all the food stacked high on the glimmering golden plates, but today, she could barely force down a bite.

In the silence, Luc reapplied some of her signature pink lip-gloss in a small compact mirror and asked. "So you're going with Draco then?"

"He asked me after dance practise." Pansy confessed, now also neglecting her breakfast. She dipped her head, letting the straight curtain of her short hair hide the flush of her once pale cheeks. "But you know, I thought there was more important stuff going on."

Cleo shot up once again, springing around and pointing her wand at a gaggle of Hufflepuff in mustard trimmed robes decorated with badges that matched Pansy's. One of the boys in the gaggle appeared so frightened by the Slytherin's defense stance, as he should have, that he dipped his plate and the contents of his bacon roll tumbled down onto his knees.

"If you keep trying to listen in, I'll have to do something about those elf ears of yours."

Greasy bacon on his trousers, the boy cupped his hands to his indeed rather pointy ears and gaped at her. None of the Slytherin on their own table reacted, for unless it was something spectacular, the affects of Cleo's more minor threats had worn off around a month or two into First Year. She sat down, taking Luc's mirror and dabbed at her own lipstick.

The remaining minutes of breakfast contained very little of interest to Evie. The entirety of the room was still sneaking glances at her, as Cleo couldn't fight them all off, which meant that she had to fake some interest in hearing all about Draco Malfoy's Yule Ball proposal. Evie had always found Draco to have a pinched face and to rather resemble the ferret Professor Moody had turned him into. (And by Merlin, was the tale funny second hand, but it must have been incredible to actually witness.) It was difficult to imagine her younger cousin finding anything romantic about snarking, pretentious and often downright cruel Draco - but then again, when it came to losing your heart, Evie couldn't judge.

She glanced down at the letter that lay between her crummy plate and now empty teacup. Her father's ink had faded into oblivion, leaving the thick piece of parchment bearing a scratch of the persistent lettering. She brushed a finger of the place of his final message. 'Be wary of Durmstrang' It was an odd request, and one that he had already offered her upon learning of the Tournament. He knew as well as she did that the Durmstrang curriculum contained Dark Arts (or as Alexei had confusingly called it, 'Ancient Ways'). If her blood status was known, Evie wouldn't have been allowed to set foot on their grounds - as they did not except muggleborns.

For all of this, her father had told her to steer clear of the crimson draped Europeans. There was no way that he had already learnt about her attack, was there? Evie pushed her remaining toast around and assured herself that if he did, she would already have been back in her bedroom at the Manor. But if that wasn't why he had thought to warn her once again, what possibly could have prompted it? Something had to have happened, he had to know something that would make him worry...

"Let's go and sort this all out with Mummy!" Cleo declared, moving around the table to take Evie by the arm. She fought off her cousin, declaring that she could in fact walk on her own. "She'll write to Uncle and tell him that he is being crazy again, then we can all have Christmas together - it'll be fun! We'll get to watch Draco and Pansy-poo being all disgustingly cute in front of Lucius and Narcissa - who needs theatre!"

To end this exclamation, Cleo did a rather good impression of Narcissa Malfoy's craning neck that gave her the appearance she would rather study the chandelier than meet your eye, and Lucius's habit of letting his brows creep into his receding, white hairline.

"What fun." Evie muttered.

They moved as a unit out of the Great Hall. Cleo took Evie's hands and guarded her front, going on and on about their Christmas plot, while Luc and Pansy guarded her rear. This wall of defence had been obviously planned well in advance, helming Evie in so tightly that she couldn't even see the figures in the Entrance Hall as they stepped down the short stone stairs and into their mist. She could, however, imagine them.

Cleo hissed sharply under her breath, drawing her wand.

Pansy and Luc stepped in front of Evie, blocking her line of sight. But they couldn't shield her from the shadows that lurched across the alcoves of the Entrance Hall, candles flickering in alarm as the gaps in the light formed dark monsters out of men.

_Durmstrang had arrived._

* * *

**♡♡♡**

"Cleo."

Evie put a hand on her cousin's shoulder, peaking over her at the sea of encroaching scarlet. The short girl was tense, her body pulled as tightly as a bow, her wand clenched in her fist.

As always, the Durmstrang students were led by Alexei Varga. He looked taller than Evie remembered, his muscles taunt under those crisp robes and handsome face somehow older. She couldn't imagine herself back in those arms, beneath the glow of his honeyed smile and tawny eyes. It felt like a dream, sweeping her up in the soft drawl of a dark violin. At his side, wandless and stiff, stood Rodion and Ivon.

A chill crept up her spine as like knights falling on their swords, each of the boys dipped into a bow.

"You'd better get out of here, now." Cleo's voice echoed in the stone chasm, cold and bitter.

Evie's guardians were not the only students in the Entrance Hall that tensed up at the sight of Durmstrang, wands in their hands and stances drawn. Adrian Pucey, the rather sluggish Cassius Warrington, along with Electra Gaunt and Draco Malfoy must have been on their way to breakfast - but now they rose to attention, moving to stand behind Evie's protectors. It was not just Slytherin that readied themselves, with Angelina Johnson looking rather groggy and dressed in her muddied quidditch uniform, joining the fray.

The Entrance Hall was transformed into a board of chess - Cleo, the White Queen had her loyal pawns. Alexei, the Black King, followed by his own army.

_But where are there wands?_

"Miss Parkinson, what on earth are you do- Merlin's Beard!" Professor Trelawny seemed to have emerged from her tower for a handful of Clementine's, for one now rolled across the stone and thumped against Luc's heel.

"Professor, I've got this." Cleo did not bother to turn as she replied to the Divination teacher. In defiance, she held Alexei's eye. "Please, just go back to your tea leaves."

Trelawny looked over the parties of crimson and black, her eyes misty behind her bottle-cap glasses. She smiled at Alexei with something burning, fizzling out in her gaze, her voice was so soft and distant. "You are right, my boy, for I also see how this will go."

With this, the Divination Professor picked up her missing clementine and promptly left. They all stared after her for a moment, Alexei chewing on his lip, before he shook of her words and stepped forwards.

"I want to talk to Evangeline."

Evie held her wand in her hand, as tightly as she could without straining the delicate muscles of her upper arm. Pomfrey's tonic had healed all but that ghastly dark mark, whatever charm it bore rippling beneath the cream of her skin. At the sound of his soft voice, that faint pain bloomed like a swell of ink in water. White abyss enfringed on Evie's vision, speckling her misted view of Alexei.

"You can talk to Evie over my dead body, Varga!" Cleo moved towards him, her wand bearing the brunt of her shaking fury. "We all know it was you, even if the Professors haven't been able to pin it on you yet! Where you really stupid enough to listen to Rowle's blabberings? How could you think _my_ cousin had dirty blood!"

Evie was glad that Angelina frowned openly for her, as she was occupied with trying to tease Cleo back into the fold. She touched her cousins' sleeve, aware that Rodion was looking jumpier with every step Cleo took towards his leader.

"Cleo, stop it."

And then she froze, out in the centre of the waring schools with her hand curling desperately in Cleo's black robes but her eyes, her eyes were on Alexei Varga.

She didn't look away, she didn't let that frantic ice rush through the chambers of her heart and hold her in place. Evie wasn't making a stand, not really. She simply decided that for once in her life, she wouldn't run and hide.

"I want to hear this."

Letting go of Cleo, Evie took another step towards the handsome dark wizard. Her footsteps echoing, the flickering sconces on the ancient walls curling in anticipation as both schools held their breath.

Evie knew.

This was what years of building a façade had got her, this was what her father had always planned for - at her back, she had a safety net. The Slytherin might have come to her aid to defend their House's honour, they may have only done it for another 'pureblood', but all the same - it was twisted, it was horrible, but somewhere deep down, their hearts must have been in the right place. If she could only tear through those bindings, all just prejudice and fear, she might be able to free them.

A gasping ache formed in Evie's throat. Discovery, attack, dark wizards - she had survived what she had been taught to fear most, and now she would face him. _Alexei._

"That's close enough." Luc called from behidn the pair, who met in the centre of the Entrance Hall.

Once again, Luc was right. Evie was so close to Alexei that she could smell his rich cologne, taste it on her tongue, as the heat of his gaze bore into her skin.

For a moment, an eternal turning of the hands of time, Alexei and Evie stared at one another. It was the calm before the storm, that flickering of dawn breaking across the horizon of the readied battlefield. That forever was a single beat of her heart.

And then he was down on one knee, a slim glass vial in his open palm. "You know what this is."

This was not what she had planned.

_Yes._

Veritaserum was clear, odourless and near indistinguishable from water, but for its odd sheen. A single drop of the highly controlled substance in your pumkin juice, and you would be willing to shout your deepest, darkest secrets from the snowy Hogsmeade rooftops. From its delicate bottle, the neat scrawl on its label and Alexei's serious expression, she knew this was no falsehood.

He uncapped the vial and drank the contents in a single gulp, his gaze remaining on Evie's horrified face. "What are you doing!"

It seemed that neither the Durmstrang students or the Slytherin's were entirely aware of the gravity of what had just happened, or why Evie's expressionless mask had cracked, as they looked around at each other. From studying Evie, considering the vail, Cleo was the first to link it all together. Under her breath, disguised and furious, she hissed at her gobsmacked followers. _'Truth potion._ '

_Is he insane? Why would he do something like that?_

And then Evie wished she could just fight him, punch him right in the face like Fred had and get it over with. Anything was better than whatever this was turning into.

"I asked Katrine to brew this for me, so that you would know I was telling you the truth."

Alexei did not turn to take in the sight of the Russian beauty, the Potion Specialist. She stood with her brother, silent and grave, her eyes focused on anything but Alexei. Instead, he pressed the vial into Evie's hand. At his touch on her aching arm, she shivered.

_He wants to confess his innocence, publicly._ George was right, Alexei did treat the world like his stage. _'And all the men and women merely players.'_

"I swear to you, Evie, I swear it. I didn't have anything to do with your attack. It wasn't me, I would never do something like that to you." There was the faintest sheen of truth potion on his soft, pillow lips. But was there honesty in his voice? "I knew nothing about it, believe me, I would have stopped it if I had. If your boyfriend would have listened to reason the other night, I would have told him as much."

If she was to believe this aided confession, if she would just let herself sink into the warmth of those bronze eyes, then he was innocent. Alexei was innocent, and she was wrong.

_Was that not what she wanted?_

The revelation of Alexei's guilt, his being the likeliest suspect, had left her riling. It was sickening, to replay in her mind, in her dreams, how earlier sweetness, to hear the hollow meaning in his words and recall the brush of his fingers against her's. Her anger, her fear, it had left Evie frozen - she had watched Cleo and Luc torture Rowle, had been unable to snap herself out of that lonesome chasm within herself, the ice water of her own thoughts.

But this...she was alone in a vast ocean, the currents dragging her further out into the deep, impenetrable blue. If Evie couldnt remain afloat, struggle back to the shore, she would drown it all.

_Innocent_. Water in her windpipe, brine blinding her vision. _Alexei_. She fought against the currents and tried to scream. _Innocent_?

A darker ship parted through the waves, a singular cohesive thought pulling her aboard.

_If_ _Alexei is innocent, then who attacked me?_

"He's not my boyfriend." She said slowly, trying to ration out the words. _What do I even say?_

"That's another thing I can't lie about, I'm glad for that." There it was, that smile that must have broken hundreds of girls' hearts. "Because I wanted to ask you something, while you have me here, on my knees."

He slipped his hands within the folds of his crimson robes once again, pulling out a shimmering black rose. Its petals were edged in gold, from its glistening, it was bewitched. _Perhaps its beauty would last forever._

"I should have asked you during the waltz, but you were so... distracting." Alexei wet his lips, voice as smooth as velvet as he held out the corsage. "Would you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the Yule Ball?"

"Alexei, I..."

"I'll find out who did this to you, Evie. But I need you to believe me, I wasn't involved. I would never insult you, or your family, like that." Alexei fell onto both knees, grasping for her hands. "Please, go with me to the Ball? What do you say, you and me, we can mend this rift."

_And prove his innocence_.

As gasps came from his friends, from passing spectators and Durmstrang students alike, it was this thought that flittered through Evie's mind. Even if Alexei did truly wish to attend the Ball with her, she knew very well that he had other motives. He wanted a Rothchild pureblood to write home about, a free ticket out of the lion pit that Durmstrang's relations with Slytherin had turned to almost overnight - and he especially wanted no one else to storm onto the ship and attempt to punch him in the face again.

But Alexei was not alone in seeing the benefits of this arrangement. Evie didn't want to be the centre of attention, to feel hateful or pitying eyes catching her with every twist and turn in the castle's corridors. She didn't want to be blamed for Durmstrang and Slytherin standing off against each other - or Lillian Pucey losing her Ball date.

And there was something else...

Here was a pureblood Lord, a near royal, on his knees and swearing that he believed in her purity. Her friends might be able to do their best to guard her, but if she had Alexei at her side, Evie could dispel any whisper that threatened her, haunted her. For if Alexei was not guilty, there was someone else out there with a grudge against her.

_Alexei Varga was the cure._

"I don't know." Evie whispered.

He was handsome, rich, and most importantly, safe? But she couldn't imagine that his lips tasted like fireworks, that his touch would set her skin alight and leave her breathless. When he smiled, the sight of him did not hurt, as though she was staring into the sun.

_Because Alexei Varga was not Fred Weasley._

_Merlin, Freddie..._

"I'll have to think about it." Evie gripped onto the corsage so tightly that her finger pricked against a thorn. A perfect bead of blood pressing into the glimmering petals. "But thank you, for doing this - I didn't want to believe you would...I don't want to be the cause of some rift."

"You're not." Alexei was on his feet now, examining the cut on her finger. With ease, he took out his wand and uttered a silent spell, her skin knitting easily together. A faint scar remained. "You were attacked by some idiot who could have mistaken you - _you_ \- for less than a pureblood. It's their fault, not yours."

Evie bit her lip. "You did end up punched in the face."

"I got a shot in myself, I'm no angel." Alexei bore of his fight with Fred, but it was clear that the memory was just as pristinely preserved as his beauty. He turned to the Russian princess, who was as grim as ever. "And then Katrine stepped in."

"Yes." Evie's lip twitched. "I heard."

All of a sudden, Evie was very aware that they were being watched. Like a fool, slipping into his open gaze and soft charms, she had nearly forgotten that almost half of Hogwarts was now crowding around to witness this baffling Yule Ball proposal. Durmstrang stood in uniform submission, a few of the boys nudging each other like they had been waiting for this result. Evie dropped Alexei's hand, still holding the rose. They seemed to have taken her lack of a refusal, the loss of her frown, as some sort of acceptance of Alexei's request.

_But I haven't, right? Right!_

Her friends, the Slytherin and Angelina, were less contained in their reactions. Draco Malfoy had rolled his eyes so hard into his skull that it was a wonder he wasn't blinded, stuffing his wand back into his robes and storming over to Pansy. Adrian, Cassius and Electra shifted on their feet - they had been ready to wage war, but now they were props in what was surely the oddest proposal Hogwarts' had ever seen. And Cleo and Luc... they remained tense, their eyes wide.

"It's alright." Evie mouthed to her oldest friends. They lowered their wands, still speechless.

Rodion Engels and Ivon Oblansk stepped forward from the crowd of Durmstrang students. _What_?

Ivon was the first of the pair to move across that cataclysmic gap between the schools, bridged only by Alexei and Evie, to stand before Cleo. While Alexei nodded, confirming that this was all part of the plan, Evie and Cleo gasped as he too fell onto one knee and produced a rose - pearlescent and white.

"Cleobella, will you attend the Yule Ball with me?" The polite blond held up the corsage, his eyes as doubtlessly steel as ever, but his voice gentle, coaxing, even.

Rodion had to be shoved out of the crowd, and then prompted by a rather firm glance from Alexei, to make his way over to Lucinda. He transformed his navy hair into a gorgeous pink, to match the corsage he held out, while his face remained a picture of contempt. Rodion, unlike the others, did not fall to his knees.

"Luc." Rodion handed her the rose before promptly shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Fancy a date? I'm not wearing matching dress robes or any of that shit."

Neither of the girls replied, they looked over their possible dates and simply stared at Evie.

Only if she allowed it, would they accept the proposals of these dashing (though in Rodion's case, handsome and regretful) wizards. They would never go back on their oath to protect Evie, their unspoken and spoken promises to guard her from whomever had dared to attack their friend - and if she still suspected Alexei, they would have rather gone to the Ball alone than with his closest companions. But there she was, holding Alexei's corsage as he gently clutched her arm, and before them stood exactly what Luc and Cleo had been looking for. Two perfect purebloods, not quite princes, but as near as one could get.

It was all a part of Alexei's plan to redeem himself, of course. Swear his innocence with a grand audience, prove that he didn't suspect her a half-breed by taking her to the Ball and have his friends join in on it all. But even if Evie didn't end up going with Alexei - what right did she have to take away this possible happiness, this long awaited dream?

Slowly, Evie nodded.

"If Evie says its alright." Cleo flushed, her pale skin turning scarlet as she took her white rose from Ivon. He kissed her hand, rising to his feet as she looked ready to swoon (for he would have caught her.) "Then yes, yes."

Luc did not have Cleo's reserve, nor her talent for acting as though she was unfazed by the sight of a handsome European pleading for her hand. She snatched the rose from Rodion. "Yes!"

Evie watched Alexei Varga produce his perfect honeyed smile, eyes shining as he admired his loyal friend's work - and something felt terribly, inexplicably wrong.

Her father's warning swum past her vision. _'Stay away from Durmstrang.'_ He could not have known, he simply couldn't have. It was the paranoid writings of a half crazed ex-spy... but all the same, it was fitting _._

Evie glanced from the dark rose in her left hand, to the now empty Veratserum vial in her right, and then to the girl that had made it. _Katrine Rasputin_.

The Russian princess was not smiling along with the rest of the students, who now chatted easily amongst themselves, her posture tight and chin upturned. As Alexei smiled at Evie, going on about how he had hoped to get in that game of Quidditch before the next Trial, Evie saw that Katrine was desperately trying to listen in to his every word. Her dark gaze latched onto moving students, flickering shadows on the stone walls, the silent profile of her brother, before desperately, unwillingly, falling back on Alexei. Evie met her eye for a moment, struck by that cold feeling that spilled from her glare.

_Oh, what if it was just that simple_.

Could it really be... even the twins had suspected that Alexei Varga was a 'liar'. He donned a charming mask in a manor so complete, so perfectly dazzling, it was like nothing Evie had ever seen. And perhaps Katrine Rasputin had fallen for it - a boy who seemed to be one of her closest friends, had he broken her heart?

_Had she sought to punish Evie for it...._

But if it was true, if Katrine Rasputin had mustered up some talent for dark charms and decided to take out her anger at Alexei through Evie, that would make Katrine, a girl that she hadn't even spoken to, perhaps one of the most ruthless and dangerous people she had ever met. Not that they had technically, really, met.

_Merlin, no - that's ridiculous. It all sounds like something out of one of those novels Cleo hides under her bed. Or worse, my dad's conspiracies._

_I would rather it be fucking Death Eaters._

Once again, Evie looked down at the slim vial in her hand. Not long ago, Alexei had smashed her Aging Potion in this very room, had promised that he would do his best to mend it with his gift for Charms - but it was his friend, Katrine, who Specialised in Potions. And just a moment ago, Evie had watched Alexei fall to his knees, down the Truth Potion and found herself listening to his prompted speech. It raised the question- if Katrine was simply innocent, why could she not meet Alexei's eye?

The answer was simple. Katrine knew something that Evie did not.

_The Truth Potion - if she made it, did he have her alter it somehow_. Evie shook the glass, watching as the iridescent drudges spiralled and caught in the light.

He spoke so freely, but just like she had altered the dosage on the Weasley twin's Aging Potion, Evie wondered if Alexei could have convinced Katrine to create a weaker dose. He would spill some of his secrets, barter back his innocence, but hide something else in the shadows?

_That's crazy_. Evie concluded, at the same time as she thought. _But if I analysed the sample, I could find out if it was true._

There were seemingly now two equally terrible possibilities. One of Alexei's friends was an impossibly strong and secret dark wizard, or the boy who believed that she had tentatively accepted his Yule Ball proposal, who reached for her hand and smiled so eagerly, was in fact her attacker.

Evie dropped Katrine Rasputin's eye, glancing up at Alexei through her lashes. Silently, she pleaded. _I don't want either of you, any of you, to have done this to me. But I know that something is wrong here - and I will find out what._

As morning light streamed into the Entrance Hall, its soft glow overcoming the slinking darkness of the Scottish castle and ruffling like a mother's hand the curls of its hungry students, she was no longer drowning or gasping for breath.

No, Evie Rothchild stood between the devil and the deep blue sea.

* * *

**♡♡♡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thank you all for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving kudos or a comment!
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say that I'm back at Uni now (I started this fic in the Christmas holidays) and that means I wont be updating as regularly as before! 
> 
> But don't worry, I'll still be putting out chapters (after all, now we've all got to witness the fall out of Alexei's Yule Ball proposal, which I'm sure Fred will just be overjoyed to hear about). xxx


	21. Winner Takes It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which hearts are broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Note: This fic was previously called 'We Were Young and Pretty'.]

♡♡♡

**"The game is on again./**

**A lover or a friend./**

**A big thing or a small./**

**The winner takes it all."**

**\- ABBA, 'The Winner Takes It All'** ****

♡♡♡

* * *

**December, 1994. [Sixth Year]**

Fate was surely conspiring against Evangeline Rothchild.

No matter how hard she tried, or how well she hid, the eyes of Hogwarts had been on her all morning. The whispers and the stares had been incessant _before_ Alexei Varga had decided to down a vial of truth potion and declare his innocence to the entire school, in the same breath, asking Evie to the Yule Ball. Thanks to her mysterious attack two days ago, branding 'liar' into her arm, Evie was a sight of contempt or pity – now she was a spectacle.

"I'm thinking scarlet – I know, I know, it's a bit Gryffindor." Cleobella popped a piece of exploding gum, the snap bringing Evie back to herself.

They stood in the stone corridor outside of the library, decorated by richly hued tapestries and burning sconces of pooling wax. Some minutes ago, the long school day had finally ended – Evie was supposed to be meeting Fred to study for their Charms exam. That meant braving the halls once again to climb up from her last period in the dungeons.

Word spread quickly around Hogwarts – but it was just one big game of Hippogriff Whispers, the tale corrupted with every exchange. In her first class of the day, a period of free study in an empty Transfigurations classroom, she had heard a bunch of girls explaining the dramatic and frankly ridiculous saga of Evie Rothchild. In this rendition of the last few weeks of her life, warped beyond recognition, Evie was at the heart of some tormented love triangle between the jealous Fred Weasley and the filthy rich Alexei Varga. In fact, the tension had been so terrible between the three that it had ended in a duel. Evie had been accidently struck on the stairs by a stray curse, all because they were fighting for her affections – it had to be true, because they had later had a fistfight on the docks of the Durmstrang ship about which one of them did it.

 _Bullshit._ Evie had thought, slamming her textbook closed. _Utter bullshit._

From there, she had heard a few similar variation – suggesting that her attack had been little more than a lover's quarrel. Others speculated that Rowle was still involved, as he believed Evie a half-blood and would tell anyone who would listen. The more sensible renditions stuck to the facts – she had been attacked by a still undiscovered wizard, likely from Durmstrang, for unknown reasons. To stop the rift forming between Durmstrang and Slytherin, to secure knowledge of his innocence and the last of the Rothchild line in one fell swoop – Alexei Varga was taking her to the Yule Ball.

 _And that part was where it went wrong._ An onyx rose, a corsage as black as night, was tucked in the folds of her cloak pocket. _I only said I would consider it..._

"But Durmstrang's robes are crimson, and I bet Ivon will want to wear his Coat of Arms to the Ball – it's trimmed in red, I looked it up in _Greengrass_." Cleo, like so many in the school, had assumed that her willingness to hear out Alexei Varga was in fact an acceptance of his proposal – tentative or not. Therefore, she believed that Evie would love to talk of their dress options. "Ugh, wait until I till Mummy – she'll probably send us the family jewels and everything!"

Evie hadn't brought herself to share her lingering doubts about Alexei Varga or Katrine Rasputin. She was yet to scrape together the free time to test the remnants of the truth potion, the slim vial tucked in her saddle bag. There was something about Cleo's giggly excitement at dancing the night away with Ivon Oblansk, her prince charming, that she couldn't spoil.

They both knew there was someone out there that had cursed her – the evidence was carved into the milky skin of her upper arm, its remnants dark and aching. But there were hundreds of students in Hogwarts, tens of dozens from the visiting wizard schools on their grounds – it had to be one of them, it just had to.

So they would agree that some fool had listened to the vicious rumours about Evie's heritage. Now Cleo was free to dream of glass slippers and true love, and they would just need to keep an eye out in the corridor and investigate the best they could. The Proffesors would find the culprit, and all would be well.

 _Unless it was Katrine._ Evie tried to smile for her cousin's sake. _Unless this truth potion is little more than giggle water._

"Right, here's your stop." Cleo motioned like she was opening an invisible door on a train, ushering Evie out onto the platform. The tiny dark haired girl was all crimson smiles and moony eyes ever since her proposal – and Merlin, did Evie hope this particularly good mood would last. "Get Fred to walk you back, and stay safe! I have a very elegant, downright swoon-worthy letter to write to dearest mama."

"Don't mention Christmas!"

"Ugh, I'll leave that misery to you." Cleo smiled with all her teeth, her pupils in the candlelight little more than crescent moons. "I get to tell her about my corsage and my dress and my _future husband_ (the son of the Bulgarian Minister of Magic) – before you drop that, how do the muggles say it, bomb."

Evie nodded. " Of course."

As Evie took a tentative step into the library, passing through the oak arches carved with panels of tinted glass, all eyes shot up to meet hers. _Well, not all eyes._ Students peaked out from the rows, others slyly tilted their heads as they leafed through forgotten textbooks, or in Madame Pince's case, the nosey librarian openly stared. In their gaze, for she refused to avoid their eyes, anger had boiled down to annoyance, or for the present Slytherin, understanding.

 _Whatever they think about me now._ Evie wished her platform boots didn't make such an echo on the creaking oak floors. _They need to stop staring._

Tucked into one of the tables at the far corner of the library, placed neatly between the Restricted Section and the shelves on Advanced Charms, a Gryffindor with wild, dark curls had kept her broad nose firmly in her book. Though she had never actually spoken to Hermione Granger, and she knew it was no intentional act of solidarity on her part, Evie was remarkably thankful that the fourth-year wasn't like the other nosey sods.

With this thought in mind, Evie made a bee line for a group table in the most remote section of the library, both near to the avoidant Gryffindor and far from the glare of the rest of Hogwarts. _Well, as far as I can get._

As ever, the library was oppressively stuffy for a room with so many arching, thinly pained windows overlooking another afternoon of fierce Scottish winter. A central corridor ran down the middle of the room, separating rows of shelves that reached upwards to neck bracing heights. The ceiling was coated in ancient depictions of texts scrawled in languages foreign to living tongues, held aloft by carved beams that splintered across the colourful murals – all shadow and searing light.

Evie threw her bag down on the table, fished out some parchment and quills from its depths, and thumped down into a chair. She made sure to face the door, watchful for the arrival of Fred Weasley. _He better not be late._

She did not catch sight of Fred sprinting through the doors with his Charms textbook in hand, scrambling past students and tossing himself down into the seat across from her. Instead, she met the eyes of a Ravenclaw girl with perfectly straight black hair and almond orbs, who's pink lips puckered and her gaze narrowed. It was as though she was trying to decipher a riddle, and the answer just kept alluding her.

 _Look Cho_ , Evie wanted to snap at her, _I'm confused too. One minute everyone's taking sides against Durmstrang, and now I'm getting stink eye from Hufflepuff's because they think I'm embroiled in some overly dramatic love triangle that's wasted everyone's precious gossip time._

With a sigh, Evie got to her feet and headed into a nearby row of books. She wasn't exactly hiding from Cho Chang and the rest of the library, for she did have a purpose. From the shelves, she plucked a few Charms textbooks that might come in handy.

They were supposed to be doing general revision, going over all that they had learnt from Flitwick in their Sixth Year so far, but as always, that plan had gone awry. The last time she had seen Fred, during their lazy afternoon together in the Hospital Wing, he had mentioned that George couldn't make the study session.

Evie bit her lip. It dawned on her that Fred might have entirely forgotten about their plans – a lot had happened since she had promised to help the twins study, ranging from wicked curses to Fred getting beaten bloody...by Katrine Rasputin.

 _If he does show up, I should probably tell him about the Katrine thing right away._ Evie grabbed a green-leather bound text from a high shelf, scrambling to track all that she needed to update him on. _Or maybe I wait...so he doesn't blow up right in the middle of the library over what could be nothing._

Evie bumped into a solid chest, teetering backwards. Books landed around her feet, one particularly large red volume hitting her in the shin as it plummeted. They were not her own.

"Oh, sorry."

Victor Krum was less graceful than she had imagined. The hulking, shallow faced Bulgarian Seeker blinked at her repeatedly for a few moments, his eyes watery under sluggishly black eyebrows. He didn't seem to register that Evie had smacked into him until she lent down, scooped up some of his textbooks, and pressed them into his red-robed arms.

As she handed them over, Evie glanced at the titles. Viktor had been holding a variety of mismatched textbooks, branded with golden embossed lettering that spelled out 'An Account of the 18th Century Goblin Revolts', to a bashed looking brown volume dubbed 'Simple Housekeeping Charms'. None of these indicated a focus for his studies, and rather seemed to suggest that he had pried them down from the shelves at random. _Odd, doesn't he have a Tri-Wizard Task egg to solve._

Viktor spoke in a gruff voice. "My fault."

For her first time seeing the Seeker up close, he was far from the keen eyed wizard she had imagined. As Evie hadn't made it to the World Cup, the First Task was a burning blur and Viktor had remained elusive at Cleo's dance practise, all she knew of Viktor Krum came filtered through the eyes and plosive mouths of the twins – to them, he was all speed and cunning. Up close, Evie found him rather bulky and awkward for a Seeker.

Something about his towering height and kind eyes reminded her of Jonas – which soon had her mind trailing down the icy path to Alexei and Katrine. Evie stared up at the frozen Viktor, wondering if he had been in the crowd that morning during her proposal, or if he was still angry at Slytherin for their slight against his school.

Instead, Viktor Krum lowered his gaze and said softly. "I'm sorry."

"I swear, I bumped into you." Evie replied, nodding at her Charms books now tucked into the crook of her elbow, the cause of her distraction in the crammed isles. "It's fine."

"Not about 've books." Viktor struggled. "What happened to you, it was a disgraceful thing. Whoever did it, they v' ill be punished."

To Evie's ears, it sounded almost like a question.

It was as if he had slapped her – she stood stunned, looking up at him and his stack of precarious and strange textbooks. Then Evie really saw him, through him. On the outside, Viktor might have seemed rather cold and distant, but his mind was running rapidly like ticking clockwork. None of this passed through his sharp, dark features, but caught in his burning grey eyes. He wanted to say something to her, badly, and it was crashing out.

"Honour, you understand, ve' protect it more than gold." From the look on Evie's face, he must have thought her confused – as though she mistook him for excusing her attacker. "But its little more than a leprechaun's trick."

Evie followed Viktor's clockwork eyes as he turned to the nearby table, a few feet away at the very end of the short row of shelves, were Hermione Granger was very clearly doing all in her power to look as though she wasn't fiercely listening to their conversation. Viktor, however, didn't seem to realise this. Though cruel, she couldn't help but wonder if his lack of awareness when not soaring through the skies, was the reason he hadn't been able to Specialise in Charms.

"Thinking that you were a half-blood." His voice definite, Viktor declared. "It shouldn't matter."

Even as a top Commander in Cleo's reign of terror, they didn't bother with Gryffindors so young – that was Pansy's game. As far as Evie knew, Hermione Granger had never been caught in the crossfire. As Cleo put it, her mercy a velvet wrapped truth, that would be childish. No, she had only ever seen the bushy haired girl in passing. The singular remark that Cleo had ever made about the sharp little lion had been in regards to overhearing her touted as the 'brightest witch of their age'. This seemed to upset Cleo greatly, as she informed her friends, it was as though the 'bossy little Mudblood' just wanted to overshadow Cleo's perfect record.

The Gryffindor girl looked up from her studies, turning her eye from Viktor to Evie. There Hermione found two purebloods, or so she thought. Evie couldn't help but wish for that singular moment were Hermione's fierce gaze met hers, and she saw the shadow of her cousin and the hard edge of her façade, that their was a softness to her own silver stare. That somehow, someway, she could convey to Hermione that they were more alike than she could ever know.

But then Hermione frowned at her and looked away. So Evie did the same, posturing and sneering ever so slightly at Viktor, unable to let her icy heart melt. "Better not let anyone hear you say that."

He seemed unable to turn his head fully from Hermione, who let out a sigh and stalked to another isle in search of more knowledge and reprieve... from Viktor. _Now_ , Evie thought, _this really is scandalous. A pureblood Durmstrang boy with a thing for a muggleborn._

"I'm Karkaroff's golden boy, this is an expression here, yes?" A morose humour crept into his tone, his watery gaze now firmly on the still recovering Evangeline. "Every time I defy his teachings, his pointy face only pinches tighter – like ee's eyes might bulge out of ee's head."

_What is he talking about?_

Evie hadn't even mentioned Durmstrang's Headmaster. Of course, he was the wizard that ran a school that enforced blood segregation and taught the Dark Arts (or 'Ancient Ways'), but that didn't make him singularly synonymous with antiquated pureblood ideas. _Right?_ Evie frowned at Viktor _. Right?_

Headmaster Karkaroff was a ghost in the Hogwarts grounds. He rarely stepped foot outside of the Durmstrang ship, and never seemed to make it to the shared feasts that the rest of his brood had once so thoroughly enjoyed, dinning with the Slytherin while their Headmaster was absent at the High Table. She tried to piece together all that she knew of the European Wizard – but Evie drew a blank, as dark and hollow as the Black Lake's shining depths.

Leaving her more confused then ever, Viktor offered her a polite nod as he turned on his heels and darted out of the isle – swift, sure and definitely a Seeker. That funny little nod must have been a Bulgarian custom, and perhaps the silent stare, for he soon shifted before her eyes from a dark-eyed Jonas to a distant Ivon Oblansk.

Then she was all alone in the isle, Charms textbooks in hand as Viktor had stalked of to wherever it was Hermione Granger had disappeared to – likely picking up more random books on the way.

 _'What was that?'_ Evie said aloud to the chunky tomes in her arms, holding them her chest like a shield. _'What the fuck.'_

They might have dressed the same, the might all have worn similar hard expressions beneath the brims of their furry hats, but Durmstrang clearly didn't all share in the same prejudiced views – for Viktor Krum, _the_ Viktor Krum, had just apologised for whatever zealot had decided to punish her for her 'traitorous' blood status.

 _Salazar's pissing grave._ Evie felt blood rushing behind her ears. _Muggle fucking God._

Stumbling out of the bookshelves into the central isle of the library and thumping down into her seat, it took Evie a moment to realise that she was no longer alone at the table. From the red blaze of his cheeks and the windswept toss of his fiery hair, Fred Weasley had not been waiting on her long. He slid his saddle bag from his shoulder and threw it onto the table top, before stretching out across the table to flex the muscles of his hands – his knuckles strained white.

"Where have you been!" Evie exclaimed. "You smell like the Owlery?"

Getting to his feet, Fred leant over the table as he shook saw-dust from his jumper and stretched out his legs. The twins were always spitfires, bundles of frantic energy that never quite seemed to burn out – but this was different. Fred was agitated, his shoulders rising and sinking sharply, his tone as strained as his muscles.

"Was borrowing Pig."

Instinctively, Evie stood up from her seat across from him and plucked a dark feather from the front of his Gryffindor robes. She held it between her thumb and forefinger – light and soft as silk. It was these same qualities that Evie hoped to muster in her voice, though her head still spun from that strange interaction, or perhaps confession, from Krum. "Are you going to sit down then?"

Fred frowned at her. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Alright."

Evie thumped back down, reaching a handout for the bag of neatly wrapped candies that poked out the top of his overstuffed bag – wedged between a few scratchy rolls of parchment, some crunched up envelopes and a chipped pot of cerulean ink. Each one of the tiny squares were printed with curling green letters, 'C.C'.

Quick as a flash, she had pried of the paper and was seconds away from tossing one in her mouth. First, he was acting weird, and now it seemed like he had been hiding his Honeydukes stash from her?

Fred caught her wrist just in time.

"Don't eat that!"

"Ah!" Evie yelped, dropping it. "Why!"

Looking unsure about whether he trusted her not to go for another one, Fred threw the latch down over the top of his bag and tossed some of the discarded, innocuous candies out into the depths of the isles. No doubt they would find their way into the gobs of hungry, frankly thoughtless, first years – or perhaps Madame Pince's overlined lips.

"They're not actually for eating!" Fred snapped.

"Why do you have a giant bag of sweets that you can't – oh, that?"

 _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_.

Evie had heard all about the twins' inventions, though when it came down to brass tax, they always got a little vague as to what exactly they were for. Over the summer, Fred had sent her one of their fake wands – a really clever bit of magic. It had got her laughing and filled the chilly house with just a sliver of joy, at least for a little while. She had always assumed they were going to try and sell them off, probably to Zunko's or somewhere in Diagon Alley,– which was a terrible shame, for they were far more original than that old hat.

Glancing at his well-guarded bag, hiding the stash of strange golden sweets, they were obviously the start of a prank. Evie had to wonder what might have happened if she had managed to eat one – while brilliant, when it came to the twins' enchantments, or anything that involved Potion brewery, the affects were terribly inconsistent. It would have been rather annoying to only find oneself half-turned into a gorgon, or only partly enamoured with the nearest fool in sight. _Really, she ought to help them refine whatever they were up to – even if they would only use it for mischief._

"Did you plan on telling me yourself at any point, or was I just meant to hear it all through Lee and Angelina?"

"Freddie-"

"One minute I'm down on that ship defending you, and you're crying into my arms." Fred had not sat back down, but stood with his hands clenched to the side of the table. A vein in his neck throbbed scarlet. "And the next, Alexei's taken some truth potion and is taking you to the Yule Ball. Evie, what the fuck?"

_Yeah, she was an idiot._

"He apologised, and it was Veratiserum, Freddie. Alexei swears he didn't do anything, and he doesn't know who did." Evie knew in that instant that she should have sought him out, skived class, immediately after – the library was no place to hear about this, not when him mind had had all morning to mull over a very different account of her proposal. _A love triangle, a duel, a disgrace._ "Why are you so angry about this – I didn't think you actually wanted it to be him that attacked me?"

_Even if he was – is – the most likely suspect._

"I'm not angry." Fred seethed, his voice drawing even more eyes to their distant table. Very soon, this fight would reach the ears of the gossipy Hufflepuff and spread round the school – adding fuel to the fire. "I just- you're not safe with _them_ , any of them. This only happened because they're here."

_Durmstrang._

Merlin, why had she ever believed it possible to sit down with him in the library – cosy between the rows of books and the heat of watchful eyes – and explain it all. That she hadn't been entirely taken in by Alexei and his crew, in fact, far from it. In her own bag she had something possibly more damming than his tampered sweets – the vial of truth potion, ready to be tested. For she might have found a new suspect: Katrine Rasputin.

 _And I'm an idiot,_ Evie thought, _for thinking he could act like a Slytherin about this for a second._

"Even if its not Alexei." Fred huffed, tossing back his feet and taking a step away from their table. He ran a hand through his red curls, readying to pace. "It has to have been one of them. Alexei put on a big show again and now-"

Evie hissed. "It wasn't like that!"

"What, nothing happened?" This was not a question. His azure eyes burned; his voice near bestial. "So he didn't give you some stupid flower and now he's taking you to the Yule Ball? I don't trust him, did you check the potion – I bet he tampered with it."

Utterly enraged, she shot from her seat. _Screw him, it's like he can read my fucking mind._

"What, you think I can't identify Potions now!"

Fred flushed. "No, it's not that."

"Then what is it? Spit it out, Weasley."

If he was half as clever as he thought, Fred would have known that she would never have just wilfully accepted anything from Alexei – if he wasn't her attacker, he was still a liar.

His voice stung, hurt brushing his handsome features. "Weasley?"

Regret turned to ice in her veins, cold and slow. Evie merely turned her head, looking of at some distant inscription on the far ceiling. "I haven't accepted anything yet."

" _Yet._ "

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing, it's nothing to me." Fred flinched back, running his tongue over his teeth as though he expected to taste blood. "I've got quidditch practise – got to keep it up for the next time we crush Slytherin."

"Oh, really."

"Wood even told Jonas he could come join us. So who knows, maybe your new friends will all be out there." Fred crossed his arms tightly over his broad chest, the tendons in his arms sharp beneath his rolled back sleeves. "Really, you should come. Now that you're transferring to Durmstrang."

A few tables down, Cho Chang seemed to have started choking on her goblet of water. Great, Evie fumed, she'll think he's being serious. _By the same time tomorrow, half the school will be waving me off, the other half will be celebrating my possible absence._

"You're being ridiculous."

From afar, Madame Pince pressed a painted finger to her lip and shushed the pair of them. But Evie didn't see the need for restraint, nor did Fred – not when the school was already talking about them all the time.

"Am I?" He retorted.

Evie went for the low blow – it wasn't always possible to take the high road. "You're right, maybe I am the ridiculous one. Ridiculous for thinking that you could ever be less of a Gryffindor for a single minute, and would just listen to me."

"And maybe I should have known a Slytherin would go back on what they stood for."

"I didn't make a stand against Alexei – I haven't done anything since...you're the one that punched him in the face, and then Cleo got almost the whole school against him!"

"You thought he was guilty." Fred thundered. "A rose and a dodgy truth potion, and you've changed your tune?"

Hermione Granger was boring holes into her skull, while the rest of the library openly gawked at the fighting pair. No secluded table could disguise the noise of their repour, as quick and cutting as blades. Even Viktor Krum had poked his head out from his hiding spot in the Transfigurations section – his face blank, but clockwork churning away.

"Stop it!" Evie threw her bag over her shoulder, grabbing the textbooks. "I'm not talking about this here."

"Back to only talking in empty classrooms?" He snatched his own overstuffed bag from the table, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's fine by me. I was just leaving."

"You're not storming off first."

Evie refused to be left in the dust, left to put back together the pieces.

Fred smiled. That grin that had born butterflies in her stomach was twisted and raw. "Watch me."

They fought their way to the door, pushing past each other as they scrambled down the row of oak tables and vigilant students. He was faster than she was, for his legs were longer, but Evie kept cutting him off and stepping on his heels as they moved towards the stained-glass arch and Madame Pince's desk.

"Aw." Evie yelped. "Get off me!"

Fred had pressed his arm against hers, meaning to shove her off him but catching on the soft underside of her upper arm. Pain rippled through her, the dark magic that remained there scratching its onyx fingers up her whimpering bone.

He dropped his arm from her immediately, looking all apologetic before something cold snapped in his eyes. Fred wet his lips and snapped at the librarian instead. "Madame Pince, we're leaving. Fancy a sweet to make up for our disturbance?"

Evie's silver eyes grew wide. "Fred!"

He hadn't even moved to open his bag for the frumpy old women – but Evie was suddenly struck with images of her transforming into a dragon or something horrid, flying off into the rafters and staking a claim to her horde of tomes more valuable than treasure.

"Merlin, I'm only joking."

Before the librarian could respond, Fred shot Evie a glare and marched out into the corridor. Evie followed after him, stamping her feet and immediately thankful for her clumpy platforms. The cold brushed her face as soon as the library doors swung close, leaving her alone with Fred in the stone corridor. Or they would have been alone together, if he hadn't set of down the hall.

 _Why is he the one that gets to be upset?_ Evie tensed with rage, her muscles turning to stone – she would make a terrible statue, her face flickering between the verge of tears to the moments before a snake struck its prey, all fangs and venom. _And I didn't even get to tell him about Katrine._

And worse still. Fred had seemed convince that she was lying about Alexei's proposal.

As a red headed boy shot back down the hall, for the briefest of moments, her heart in her throat, Evie thought that Fred had came back. But George had that unmistakable jaunty walk, a flare to the blustering of his shoulders, and unlike Fred, he actually looked happy to see her.

"There's no quidditch practise." Evie said quietly. "Is there?"

"Quidditch practise?" George recovered quickly, but just not quickly enough. "Oh yeah, quidditch, I was just heading there when I realised...look Evie, I'm not lying for him, I don't know what he's said to you. I just know that he's been waiting to talk to you all day...I think he's pretty hurt."

George put his hands in his pockets, his thumbs resting in the loops of his belt. He was always quick on the uptake – a product of always being second, it gave him a moment to think and feel things about before he spoke.

"Well, he didn't do much talking." Evie bit her lip, cheeks flushed with guilt but her tone sour. "He barely sat down, and then he stormed off."

"Yeah, that sounds like him." George shrugged. "Short fuse that one."

"Because you're so much better?"

"Definitely not."George laughed, his voice light and full of freckled sunlight.

There was a Charms textbook tucked under his arm, along with a few rolls of parchment. Evie suspected that he had planned to make it to their study session after all – but had given his brother a chance to get his fears of his chest. Though Evie couldn't be entirely sure, for she didn't get the chance to ask.

"Evie!"

Ara Rosier was running like a maniac down the other side of the corridor – faint sweat creeping down from the crown of her curly head, a bright scarlet on her winded cheeks. She stopped a few paces short of her friend, wheezing for breath as she leant against the library's closed door. "Ev-Evie, shit. We need you in the dungeons, quick!"

George tilted his head, as though he was expecting his arch-nemesis, Cleo, to pop out from one of the alcoves and launch her attack. As this did not happen, he merely watched fascinated as a frantic Ara sucked in a much-needed breath.

Evie grabbed her by the arm, steadying the Slytherin Chaser. "What's wrong?"

"It's Luc!" Ara gasped. "It's an emergency – but we can't tell Cleo!"

♡♡♡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note:
> 
> As is the way with this fic, in the next chapter we will be going back to the library (in 1993).


	22. Freddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a nickname is born.

_"Been losing grip on sinking ships/_  
_You showed up just in time."_

\- Taylor Swift, 'This Love'

**♡♡♡**

* * *

**November, 1993. [Fifth Year]**

"Ah ha!"

Snatching out a hand, Evangeline Rothchild pulled the dusty green copy of 'Deadly Draughts and Near Lethal Antidotes' from the tightly packed shelf. In her morning Potion lesson, while the rest of the class grew sleepy from the warm vapors of their bubbling cauldrons, Evangeline had sat fascinated as Professor Snape made continual reference to the rare textbook. In fact, she was almost positive he spoke for her benefit. This had all led to her present search, a rather strenuous hour of rummaging through high library shelves on an extendable staircase.

 _But here it is!_ Evie clutched the book to her chest, breathing in the dust of its worn spine and sneezing so hard that she almost tumbled down the stairs. _Lethal and deadly, it wasn't kidding._

If it weren't for the first shrill scream, it was possible Evie might have believed the sudden outpour of black smoke across the library floor, pooling and rising into a swirling mist, to be a side-effect of breathing in the old textbook fumes. It was a Friday in late November, and few students were actually in the library, unless one was boring enough to search out additional Potion reading – it made the chorus of screams rather sparse. _Too little butter over a dry piece of toast._

"Calm down at once!" There was the distant and commanding call of Madame Pince, the sharp-beaked librarian. Magic wasn't allowed in the library – especially anything that might damage the books. Pince sounded irritated, her concern fleeting but the love for her collection eternal.

"I'll sort this all out." Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor, shouted in the growing mist. Evangeline couldn't see him, being alone in the Potion & Herbs section, but she could very well imagine his pinched, wheezing face. "If you would all just calmly walk to the- aw, that was my foot! I'll have you know I'm _Head Boy_!"

It was at that moment the thunder started.

A far-off shattering against the oak floorboards sent something silver and near translucent up into the rafters, visible over the dastardly high bookshelves, especially if one was standing on a rickety set of magical extending stairs. A cloud formed below the muralled sky, spouting a downpour of deluge and a shower of sparks into the misty, frantic crowds. Though inside the stuffy library, it was almost exactly like being back in the stands at the Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor Quidditch match – except, hopefully without any dementors out for Harry Potter's soul.

"Come on." A mischievous voice called from the foot of the stairs, reaching a hand out of the mist to pull Evie into his freckled grasp. "Before the lightning really starts!"

With her hand in his, she discarded her sought after book in an instant. Evie and Fred raced out of the mist-ladened rows of the library and pushed past furniture and baffled students on their way to the still visible tinted glass doorway, that would lead them out of the blinding fog. Though they ran quickly, laughing with every fraught step at the ridiculousness of it all, whatever brilliant plan Gryffindor's terrible trio had cooked up was on the verge of foil – Percy Weasley, a ginger smear in the mist, and the clipped heels of Madame Pince were both hot on their trail. As they pushed through the doors into the stone corridor, George Weasley held the door open with his slim hip and cast a final weather spell – a bolt of topaz bloomed as another downpour began over the heads of dripping, yelping students who used priceless old textbooks as umbrellas.

With this, George turned to Lee, Fred and Evie. "Scatter!"

Fred kicked the door closed just as Percy Weasley's face appeared through the glass. He met his brother's eyes, as George pushed Lee off down the right side of the corridor and Fred gestured to Evie that they should take the left. Shrugging at his older sibling, Fred took Evie by the sleeve and they started to sprint.

"I'm writing to mum about this." A muffled Percy screamed through the glass, he was pressed so tightly to the door that every word left an imprint. "After those toffees and the toilet seats, you're done for!"

Fred called back, still running. "Come on Bighead, it's just a little fun."

Percy didn't stay behind the glass for long – he seemed to have found the handle in the mist, pushing it open and spilling out into the corridor along with a trail of smoking cloud. As thunder roared at his back, his scarlet hair and dark robes dripping, he shot after Fred and Evie. He was not the only charging bull, for Pince took the right after Lee and George.

They made it into the adjoining series of corridors, stretching out in encircling forks around the entire First Floor. A suit of armour rattled as Fred and Evie tore past it, feeling the sweeping breeze that filled the tapestry draped hideaway. Tendrils of Evie's black hair danced as Fred smiled at her, that heart-stopping grin, before he pulled out a small velvet bag from his pocket and tossed up a handful of darkness into the air. It spread out around them in an encompassing numbness, more impenetrable than the mist of the library. They had stepped into a pocket of night.

"Come on." Fred whispered to her, and she knew he was still smiling even in the darkness. He pulled her against the wall, feeling for something before dragging back the edge of an ancient, now unseeable tapestry and tugging Evie into a hidden alcove.

"Peruvian instant darkness powder." He explained, voice soft as Percy's livid footsteps approached. "Got some in Egypt, knew it would come in handy."

With him in that little hidden space, Evie could hear her own heart beating so terribly, deliciously fast. His hand was still in hers, guarding her, protecting her from every storm.

"When we made the truce." _Light, keep your voice steady._ "You were only supposed to warn me about dungbombs outside the common room?"

Fred shrugged. "Saw you when I was scoping out the place, didn't want you getting trammelled."

"Thanks."

"Think Percy will recognise you?" Fred flicked a finger against her Slytherin Prefect badge. She could barely see him thanks to the overcast shadow of the tapestry, helping and hiding them. All the same, his nose surely wrinkled at the symbol of authority.

Evie tried not to laugh at the irony. "Then we'd be back were we started – detention, probably with Snape."

They laughed as quietly as they possibly could, Evie muffling the sound against his chest as he lent into the velvet crown of her hair. It was almost unimaginable to think back to that first detention. _Merlin, she had hated him._ She had even let Cleo call him a blood traitor, left him by the Lake thinking she was off to rat him out. Now they stood in each other's confidence, hands linked together in the darkness as Hogwarts' Head Boy sought them out. Neither one would betray the other, not ever.

"You know." Evie began softly. "If you really wanted to get away with a prank like that, I just read about a potion that can bottle weather spells."

It had taken her a while to locate 'Deadly Draughts and Near Lethal Antidotes'. It seemed that her afternoon flicking through random old tomes might actually have had a use after all.

Fred rejoiced. "How did _you_ become a Prefect again?"

"I can be a rebel, when I want to." Evie tapped the crest on his uniform, a lion with its jaw unhinged and bloody. "Unlike some people, Freddie, I-"

A footstep just outside of their hidden alcove. Fred put a hand over Evie's mouth, her sentence cut off in an instant. They held their breaths, praying to whatever it was that a Wizard believed in that Percy wouldn't think to pry back the tapestry. They stood like that for a minute, until Hogwarts' Head Boy let out an angered huff and marched on down the corridor.

"Freddie?" They were so close that Evie could make out the quirk of his brow, feel the electricity thrumming in his voice as he dropped his hand from her lips.

Evie flushed. She was used to calling all of her friends by a nickname. It was something that they had decided on during First Year, long before Safiya had come along and ruined the pattern (which Cleo constantly endeavoured to fix.) If Evangeline had to be Evie, they would all change too. _Of course, it was really only George that called him Freddie. Even then, it was most often the teasing variation of Freddie-boy, a twin to his Georgie._

"I already call you Princess." Fred brushed a dark tendril out of her eyes, his soft hands lingering on her hot cheek. "So you can call me whatever you want."

Unable to bare the burning in those azure eyes, as blue and forever as the reflection of a storm on the winter sea, Evangeline looked up. There, just above their heads, clung a slim piece of mistletoe. _It's only November?_

And then the lack of dust in the alcove made perfect sense, it's depths free of spiderwebs and centuries of untouched dirt. For this was no unused alcove, another one of Hogwarts's many hidden passages. This was the libraries make-out point, to use the Illvermorny term, a rumoured place Evie had only heard of. _Did he bring me here on purpose...does he bring a lot of girls here?_

Fred and Evie glanced up at the mistletoe, and then at each other, breathing heavily from something more strenuous than running.

For Evie had known since the quidditch match, maybe even long before then when something ached in her chest at the sight of him, that she wanted Fred to kiss her. Merlin, she would have let him even if he had taken every other girl in Hogwarts, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, to the secret snogging alcove already. Of course, she would hunt down each and every one of them later – they would find a splash of draught of the living dead in their pumpkin juice. But if they existed, they were a matter for later.

She glanced at the perfect pink curve of his soft lips. _Much, much later._

They were so close, so terribly entangled, that the heat of him seeped through her clothes and into her very core. His fingers twitched and stretched around hers as he drew her in, his lips approaching hers. That smell of sugar and smoke that clung to him was muddied with the fragrance of the crackling storm. Electric and sharp to his lips smouldering, sweet, honey.

He kissed her on the cheek, as respectfully as any pureblood gentleman had ought. Fire spread, burning through the ice in her veins, wrapped like vines around her heart. It was bittersweet death come to claim her. In agony, Evie couldn't breathe.

"Can't break tradition." Fred glanced away; his jaw clenched and his fingers rising up to brush the mistletoe.

"Right, of course."

 _A kiss on the cheek._ She would build up her guard of ice, shield her heart from the pain. If frozen, the broken pieces might still hold together. _Between friends._

The tapestry rustled as it was pried back, George Weasley poked his head into their hiding place and grinned at them. His cheeks were read from running, not kissing. "Snog Corner, good hiding place." George spoke to his twin, who looked rather annoyed at this intrusion that had caught him with his hand still entangled with Evie's, beneath an unseasonal sprig of mistletoe. "We lost Pince, better get back to the Common Room before Percy gets McGonagall on the scene."

"Evie was just talking about this potion that can bottle weather charms." Fred said, too calmly.

Lee Jordan shot out from beneath George's head, pushing into the conversation with his signature blinding smile. He nodded approvingly at Evangeline and Fred. "Wicked, then we could throw them and run."

"I'm starting to like you after all, Rothchild." George reached out to shake her hand. Both pulling her into the cold light of the corridor, emptied of Peruvian instant darkness powder and left with the faintest sheen – but it also meant something else entirely, a deal between equals. _Not equals, friends._

Evie shook George Weasley's hand, his eyes dancing with the future chaos they could reign over Hogwarts' together – dungbombs, swamps, canaries and fireworks. Evie had to take this win, had to focus on this small victory while the heat of that rejected kiss lingered on her cheek. 

_When one door closes, another opens._

♡♡♡

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note:
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> This is one of the last snippets of Evie and Fred's Fifth Year, because we are basically all caught up on how they became friends. In the next chapter, we're thrown right back into all the drama and whatever disaster Luc is secretly involved in!


	23. Life on the Rocks (Never Neat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evie Rothchild can only heal so much.

_“But maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you tore it all up/_

_Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well/_

_And you call me up again just to break me like a promise/_

_So casually cruel in the name of being honest.”_

_Taylor Swift, ‘All Too Well’_

***

* * *

**December 1994. [Sixth Year]**

The Alchemy classroom was carved of slick, dark stone. Beneath the low arched ceiling, rows of wooden shelves ran the length of every wall. In glass vials as slender as a finger bone, base ingredients were displayed. They caught in the amber flash of the swooping chandelier, silver and sparse. The room was swallowed up by a selection of large mahogany desks. In the far corner, near a bookshelf piled high with dusty textbooks, Evie’s eyes caught on a spark of green.

Luc sat with her legs dangling off a stool, her shaking hand clasped around that green spark as Ara ran to her side. She rubbed small circles in the distraught girls back, prying the hair from her grasp and placing it out of sight.

_Hair._

It was a shocking shade, sprouting from Luc’s roots a mousy brown and coming down around her ears like blades of grass. Plastic, something seen in muggle front gardens. In fact, broken pieces even stood on end like the artificial greenery. And Merlin, was it _green._

“Morgana and Mordred”. Evie put a hand to her mouth, hoping to hide her gaping jaw.

Earlier that day, in their afternoon Potions class, she had thought to ask Professor Snape if she was alright to practise a few new Alchemic mixes that evening. While this was a bold-faced lie, for Evie needed no practise and simply wanted a chance to quickly test out Katrine Rasputin’s truth potion, it had worked on the Potion’s Master. Though he sneered and grumbled, like usual, he had come over to her and Luc’s desk to mention that the Alchemy classroom would be left unlocked. In that drawling, bored tone, he added ‘if anyone happens to be _so_ dedicated to the finer arts.’

It was not Evie that had taken advantage of the empty classroom. The unlocked door was no mercy.

“She tried to dye ‘et.” Safiya stood next to Evie, her hands on her hips as her flat nose wrinkled in disgust. If Ara had turned the comforting mother, Safiya was the disapproving father.

Evie hopped down the dungeon steps. “Green?”

“No, not green!” Luc cried, her face flushing scarlet with both fury and embarrassment. Compared with the rest of her once peach and cream complexion, she looked rather like a Christmas tree. “Blonde. Just a streak.”

Realisation dawned on Evie, a wave crashing up over the rocks and hurling towards her, freezing and all at once. It seemed that Luc was in fact dreadfully aware of Rodion Engels lack of interest during their proposal. Willing ignorance had born her a smile, a soft blush as she took his half-hearted corsage. While Cleo and Evie had Ivon and Alexei on their knees…Luc was an afterthought in the Durmstrang plan, a prop. _And she knew that._

Evie touched her own white streaked locks.

Shame curled in her stomach. Luc wasn’t very good at Potions, she was terrible really. If it weren’t for Evie’s constant tutelage, her watchful eye over her cauldron, Snape would have ousted her from the NEWT class months ago. _I should have been here to help her, stop her. Not fighting with a stupid, idiotic, hot-headed Gryffindor!_

“Lucinda,” Evie began, her voice soft.

“Don’t make that face.” Luc snarled, covering her own with her hands. “It’s unnatural on you… Just leave me okay, don’t tell Cleo and I’ll find a way to fix this.”

“We can’t just leave you!” Ara drew her into a hug, stretching across from the nearby stool. With Luc in her arms, stiff as a board, she looked pained at the touch. Even with her hair a spring green, there was something in Luc’s savage and porcelain features that always brought to mind a doll. A child’s toy, discarded and forgotten. “Now that Evie’s here, she’s going to fix you. I mean…you can’t go to the dance looking like a poisonous hedgehog.”

“An’ you say I can’t be subtle.” Safiya’s smile flashed white. “ _Darling_.”

For a heartbeat, they encircled Luc in utter silence. Ara let out a whistling breath, having ran all the way back down to the dungeon far faster than Safiya and Evie. The Slytherin Chaser loosened her grip on Luc for a moment to wipe sweat from her tanned brow. Safiya paced in short circles, trailing her leg as though ready to leap into second position. It was impossible not to stare at Luc’s hair, for Evie began to suspect it was glowing.

“Just tell us what you need.” Safiya nodded firmly to their resident Potion Mistress, who’s mind immediately strung together a scattering of ingredients they couldn’t simply find in the Alchemy display. “We’ll convince everyone to donate from er’ Potions kit, or we can go to Snape.”

“Snape!” Luc sat boldly upright, shifting out of Ara’s arms. “Don’t bring him into this, or Cleo!”

“Oh come on, he loves me – if Snape could love.” Jumping of her stool, Ara danced on the balls of her feet. Though muscle rippled beneath her emerald quidditch jumper, she was lithe in her energetic buzzing. “I’m the one who’s going to bring him the Cup, he can’t say no to me.”

Evie disguised her snort with a cough.

“That’s not what I mean. I don’t want him to see my hair. He already makes fun of me.” Luc’s protest broke off into a dramatic cry, every word emphasising her shaking plea. “I – don’t – want – him – to – call – me – hedgehog.”

This time, Evie couldn’t disguise her spluttering. “It’s more like a porcupine really, or a fluffy caterpillar.”

“I’ll kill you, I swear.”

If she were a step closer, Luc’s intended jab to the side would have sent Evie to the ground. But the green-haired girl seemed to regret her attack immediately, looking up at Evie with those glassy eyes as she stood up to grab onto her un-cursed arm, shaking her. It was something between a prayer and a punishment.

“Aw!” Evie pushed her off, unable to keep her voice level. “I’m only joking, just trying to lighten the mood. You’re all doom and gloom, but I can fix this.”

Luc let her free, nodding firmly. “You better. I can’t go into the Common Room like this.”

Taking this as a sign of reassurance, or at least, that a fight wasn’t about to break out all because Evie had failed to sheath her cutting tongue, Safiya and Ara soon got the list of ingredients out of their friend. They trotted up the dungeon steps, Ara taking them two at a time, as they headed off on their search. This left Luc and Evie alone in the shallow boned classroom, the smell of whatever misused beautification recipe the foolish Carrow had used clinging in the air. It smelt faintly coppery, and far from something you’d find sold behind the counters in Diagon Alley _. Legally._

Unable to let time waste away, fully aware that she was in a room with her Alchemy kit tucked away in the adorning cupboard, Evie set to work on her intended task. She set two cauldrons alight – one for Luc’s restoration tonic, another for her Base potion. A common and cheaply made brew, a singular drop of the draught would separate most potions into their base materials. With an understanding of all the components of veritersum, it would soon be apparent if the vial in her saddlebag contained unaltered truth potion.

Regretfully for Luc, the ingredients for this revelation were far more easily accessed than whatever miracle would have to be sourced to fix her seaweed-coated head.

“You’re going to have to distract me.” Luc sniffed, picking at the once perfect pink paint on her nails. It peeled off in great flakes, floating like feathers down to the stone floor. Evie returned with her Alchemy kit, feeling shards of chipped gloss landing on the toe of her hulking black platforms. “Otherwise, I’m just going to try chopping it all off again.”

 _That explains the scissors._ A great brass pair sat on the tabletop, next to a clump of green.

“That might work.” Evie said absentmindedly, tossing a few newts into the fire. “We could make a growth potion…but it takes a few days to brew.”

“I can’t look like this – or worse - for a few days!”

“True, then Cleo would definitely see.”

The sound Luc made was something between a cry and a drowning cat struggling for its final breaths. Evie could understand her fear – she had worried about showing up to Hogwarts with a few blonde streaks, and her cousin had in fact had a near panic attack at the sight. _‘We’re not matching anymore.’_ She couldn’t imagine that Cleo would take kindly to her third in command stepping so drastically out of line…and firmly into greener pastures.

“Alright, alright. You’re right.” Turning her potion three times counter clockwise, the draught faded to a muddy and frankly indiscernible hue. “Stop crying, stop it! Looking at your reflection isn’t helping anyone”

Luc had picked up a small, golden cauldron like it was a hand mirror. The drowning cat sounds had started again as she pried at the crispy, grassy clumps on her head. Evie wanted it to stop, she wanted her sad doll eyes and the crying to stop so much that she would have been willing to say almost anything.

And she did. “Listen, Luc. I’m not sure what to do about Alexei.”

“What!” The cauldron thumped onto the desk. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know – I’m making this Base draught to see if the truth potion is, well, true.” Evie could see the reflection of her own silver eyes in the bubbling surface of the cauldron. The girl in those murky waters looked frightened…and angry. “I’m still not sure about him, he might have had Katrine mix something weak and lied to me this morning.”

_If only Fred had bothered to hear me out._

“Are you crazy?” Luc shrieked, her voice ear-splitting. When they were alone, Cleo often said that Luc’s voice was so shrill that they ought to plug their ears with cotton, or risk falling deaf. _A lovely thing to say about your friend…but true_. “The Lord, Alexei Varga, asked _you_ to the Yule Ball, swore he was innocent in front of our whole school so he could do it, and you still think he’s up to something.”

“Less than two days ago, you were ready to burn down the castle until you found whoever was responsible for this.” Agitation flooded her melancholy tone, Evie brushed a finger down her forearm. Beneath the fabric of her cloak, darkness rose to meet her touch. “Suddenly, you’re willing to just believe anyone who claims they’re innocent?”

“That’s a truth potion, Evie. I’d bet my Gringotts account.” Luc pointed at the shimmering dregs in the little vial Evie had left atop her satchel. Her friend bit the inside of her cheek, looking off to the door as she spoke in a soft, distant voice. “I can just…I can just feel things from people. Sometimes, its like I know things, I can tell if someone is lying to me. And I don’t think Alexei is lying. He definitely has ulterior motives, I’m not an idiot, but come on, who cares, who doesn’t. It wont matter when you have him on your arm.”

Evie stood frozen, but suddenly the sugary giggling Luc was back. “You could be _Lady_ Rothchild.”

“I’m starting to think NEWT Divination has really went to your head.” _What was she going to reveal next, that she could speak parseltongue?_ If Luc had this gift, she would have mentioned it earlier…otherwise, Evie would be in serious trouble. Then again, she wasn’t exactly able to talk about her blood status, the curse kept her bound. Evie had never had to lie to Luc about it, not aloud. “Too many cups of Trelawney’s tea.”

“Alexei is your best option.” With every nod of her suddenly confident head, glossing over that last remark, Luc’s hair shook like sea-weed pulled from the briny sea. Her voice still sweet and high, there was an undercurrent. “Not only is he a Lord, all those other Durmstrang kids follow him around like lost puppies. One of them attacked you, Evie, we know that. But you’re much safer with the alpha at your beck and call.”

“And here I thought you were just a pretty face.” Evie mused, stirring.

“Carrow.” Luc pointed to her inherited features, flashing her teeth. “Through and through.”

Though the proposals had only happened that morning, and poor Luc hadn’t exactly faired well, Evie couldn’t help but ask. “Have you told your grandmother about Rodion yet?”

“No, are you joking!” It was Luc’s turn to snort, her peach of a nose flaring. “When Brunhilda here’s about me ‘catching’ an Engels, she’ll tell me I should be the one with an Oblansk. You know she gets a copy of _Greengrass_ delivered every morning? All I’d here from her is the usual. ‘Oh how far our families fallen’. ‘Something something Dark Lord’. Oh, and her favourite, _‘what a dreadful little thing you are Lucinda’_ ”.

On those last few words, Luc’s impression of her grandmothers drawl was so alarmingly accurate that it sent shivers down her spine, a cold flush breaking across her collarbone. Brunhilda was a formidable beast, she rarely ventured outside of Carrow House and Evie was truly thankful for that. _After all, that was the woman who had made, moulded, Alecto and Amycus Carrow. Not to mention Luc’s father, the long dead Death Eater._

“Is an Engels not enough?” Evie asked.

She tried to recall seeing the Engels family in _Greengrass._ From what Cleo had told her, they were a bunch of orthodox wizards, boring and rich, sprinkled with a few black sheep…and even, as it turned out, a squib who’d become something of an influence in muggle circles. If that wasn’t going to make Brunhilda burst a blood vessel, if she learnt that Rodion was a metamorphmagus, it might send the old bat to an early grave.

Evie stirred the potion once clockwise, smiling into the sludge. _Good riddance_.

“Never.” Luc countered with a sigh. “You and Cleo are the lucky ones, like always.”

“Luc-“

“No, don’t say anything.” Twirling the bronze scissors in perfect, lethal circles, her fingers stained green with tonic, Luc’s glinting eyes met Evie. There was a fire there, hidden behind a wall of stone and bubblegum lipped smiles - a different sort of flame than Cleo’s consuming fire, but undoubtably, just as deadly. “Just don’t try and tell me you’re thinking of refusing Alexie, not when you’ve got a Prince on a platter. And look at me,” she giggled, “I’m fucking green.”

Unsure of what might draw her out of this strange, smoke and mirror mood, Evie prodded. “Maybe Rodion would like the green.”

“I’m not even sure Rodion likes girls, let alone green ones.” Luc flicked the cauldron, sending out a ringing. “Haven’t you seen the way he looks at Jonas?”

_Oh, so she picked up on that too._

“Yeah, I have.” Evie confessed, drawing out her Base potion with a long, metal spoon. She poured the muddy liquid into a strainer, shaking it into a bowl. Unsure of what more she could say on that matter, the Slytherin frowned. “And I guess I’ll know what to do about Alexei once this is done.”

“You don’t really have any other options at the minute, do you? Everyone’s already been asked.” Luc’s eyes narrowed at a thought she soon expressed, sneer playing across her cruel mouth. “I mean, who else is there? Fred Weasley. You can’t exactly take a blood traitor to the Ball, that would make you look even more guil- even worse. Witches used to marry their Yule Ball dates you know-“

“If Fred had asked me-“ _No, that’s not something I can admit._ “Look- forget it.”

“If he had asked you, you would have said yes!” Luc jumped down from the stool, grabbing both of Evie’s arms so tightly that she saw stars. “Merlin, maybe Cleo had it wrong all along. It’s not Fred that’s all lovesick for you, because _you_ love him!”

 _Is that what they say behind my back?_ Evie slipped into crimson, shoving Luc away. _Then again, she doesn’t shy from saying the same stuff to my face. Merlin, now I’m really screwed._

“I do not, we’re just friends.” If Evangeline Rothchild was anything at all, she was a liar. It came to her with ease, the chill in her veins and that cold, indiscernible expression across her face. No one would say that her silver eyes burned. Around her irises, great silver lakes froze over, and warmth died. “And don’t let Cleo here you saying that.”

“You can’t actually love him, Evangeline.” That name sounded so wrong, so alien and raw. Luc, a girl that understood turning one’s heart to stone, touched her softly on the shoulder. It was as though she thought that she was being kind. “You know that, right? If you think that Alexei is dangerous, you should know the real danger would be having a traitor on your arm. You might as well put a target on your back.”

Something ached in her chest, died and rose again.

“He didn’t ask me.” Evie bit her lip, unable to get that devilish grin and freckled profile out of her head. In the icy tundra of her heart, there was only one survivor. “So it hardly matters.”

There was a commotion at the dungeon door as Ara and Safiya stumbled down the steps, holding a large wooden trunk between them. They dumped it on the ground, both panting for breath, and pulled upon the lid. Within, ingredients of every sort hid themselves away in dusted beakers, sealed with cold wax and string, or sloshed in crystal vials. Evie checked off each of her requests; a sprig of dittany, a few lush baneberry’s and even a dried container of common mugwort, far less lethal than the ivy variety. It forced her thoughts to Fred and that long passed detention – though if they lingered on poisoning him, she couldn’t say.

“Salazar’s missing toe.” Ara ran a hand threw her amber curls, pulling them back with a soft lavender scrunchie. “We had to tell Cleo we were going to the library, but obviously, she can tell we’re up to something. I think she’s looking for you two, even said she stooped to some Gryffindor were you were.”

 _Oh,_ Evie thought, _I’m going to have to come up a cover. Brilliant, just brilliant. How did I end up doing all this again?_

“What are you brewing?” Ara hopped over to the cauldron. In each hand, she held the heaviest containers, leaving Safiya to transport the delicate vials over to the desk.

Ara sniffed at the rising fumes, watching as Evie used a pipette to draw up a single droplet. As it slipped down the glass side of the vial, turning the shimmering and clear liquid a flurry of indigos, violets and scarlet, Evie took a shaking breath. Pouring the mixed liquid into a rimmed tray, each bead of shifting hue split of in differing directions, veins racing from a carotid heart. The potioneer was left with scrapes of ingredients, each faintly familiar in their rapidly reverting forms.

“Base potion?” Safiya crossed her slim brown arms over her chest, voice flat.

“Yes.” Evie frowned down at her work. “With the truth potion.”

As this didn’t seem to entirely mend Ara’s wide-eyed curiosity, Evie sighed and went over her theory. She feared that Katrine Rasputin may have tampered with Alexei’s morning dose of veritaserum – either because he was responsible for her attack and wished to hide it, and Katrine had been roped into all of this, or because the Russian Princess was some sort of diabolical mastermind who was out to get Evie for stealing her Hungarian Lord. Frankly, when she said that part aloud with Safiya present, Evie started to feel a little bit ridiculous (and was reminded, horrifyingly, of her paranoid father.)

But Ara nodded, sympathy consuming her features while consideration glinted in her eyes. Even Safiya admitted that Evie was better safe than sorry. All in all, while she was grateful for their attempt at support – Evie wished that she could have been telling Fred all of this. He was all gun-ho, hex first, think later. The Slytherin just weren’t like that.

As she examined each of the ingredients with a quick spell, her anger at Fred Weasley only grew. He had left her outside of the library, alone in a castle of wolves and dark wizards. Since pride wouldn’t let her entirely give into this deficit, Evie focused on the fact that she hadn’t even had the chance to tell him about Katrine! His voice looped in her mind. _‘I should have known a Slytherin would go back on what they stood for’._ What right did he have to say that, when for him, she had shed her reptilian guard?

 _And I didn’t even accept Alexei!_ Evie looked down at the remnants of Katrine’s potion, were an unmistakable fault lay.

“So?” All three girls chorused, poking their heads around Evie’s shoulders. “Is it pure truth potion?”

Evie gulped, ready to sink into oblivion. There was no mistaking what rested inside of that tray, pure and undistilled. “Yes, veritaserum…I suppose you don’t owe me your trust fund after all, Luc.”

“Perfect!” The green haired girl smiled, pinching her. “You can accept Alexei. And right now, you can fix my stupid hair.”

_Innocent. Both Katrine and Alexei were innocent._

* * *

**December 1994, The Next Morning [Sixth Year]**

High above the Slytherin table, the enchanted candles were draped in icicles as sharp as daggers. Slick and silver, they withered in the heat of the flame, droplets failing down on unsuspecting students who were presently eating their breakfast, in the light of a gauzy winter morning streaming in through the stained-glass windows of the Great Hall. While beautiful, the icicles were far less deadly than their exterior counterpart, for they were only illusions – all the same, foolish First Years moved their goblets out of the way of an icy splash that never quite came.

Down below, slumped in her seat, Evangeline Rothchild sipped at her porridge. The sad bowl of oats wasn’t appetising, even when coated in a layer of sparkling brown sugar. There was a lump in her throat, a sharp growl in her stomach. At her side, Cleo chatted away, occasionally stopping to wrap her scarlet lips around a piece of jam toast, so bright and slick it looked like lacquer. With every dramatic wave of her hand, the smell of strawberries hit her and Evie’s stomach did another flip.

Evie sighed, clamping Cleo’s wrist to the table. “Stop it!” Her cousin had attempted to make a profane gesture at Lillian Pucey. It was a bit muggle for Cleo, in fact, Evie had taught it to her.

The younger Slytherin girl had tried to slip into the Great Hall unnoticed, avoiding Cleo’s eye with her grip entangled in some older Durmstrang boy’s gloved hand. Everyone else might have relaxed a little, but Cleo was still very much on her guard – she sneered at Lillian, doubtlessly recalling all that she had said about Evie.

Evie was thinking something else entirely. _Merlin, he’s way too old for her._

In a single day, how much could change in a school. Adrian Pucey, a few spots down from Cleo, squinted at his younger sister, who hid with her newly reclaimed beau at the edge of the Hall. There was no fury there, no hatred more intense than one might expect from an older sibling. Tension was not thick in the air, nor was a war brewing behind tightly pressed collars. Cleo was feared, Evie was at her side, and all was as it was. _Almost._

Hungrily, Evie chewed the inside of her cheek. _All because of Alexei_

“Oh my- when did this happen!” Cleo threw her toast down onto a plate, jam smearing the gold. “Is everyone getting makeovers without me!”

At the sound of their Queen’s panicked hiss, the Slytherin’s all turned their heads to the girl that approached their table. As she took a seat beside Ara and Safiya, across from the Parkinson cousins, even the other Houses snuck glances at the usurper.

Luc was sharper around the edges, a finely cut-blade. Her hair ran in a carved bend to the dimple of her cheek, steeply boned and flushing rose, fashioning the Slytherin into a Mod. Paler than snow, brighter than platinum, no green tinge remained in those perfectly smooth locks. The whispers were immediate. ‘She looks like a Malfoy’. Or perhaps, Evie considered her beautiful friend, she had always looked like that, beneath mousy brown hair and soft pink lips. Now she was all snow and blood.

Smiling, Evie watched Luc self-consciously fix her pink headband. Because while her tonic might have worked a miracle, it couldn’t change a person’s nature.

“Do you like it?” Luc smiled with cherry lips, a few shades lighter than Cleo’s.

At her request, the Slytherin Queen appraised Luc. The made-new bloom presented to the whimpering mercy of the Court, draped in white silks and virgin taffeta – Luc could be a diamond of the first water, or die trying. Darkness lingered in Cleo’s gaze, tawny and slit, her fine mouth twitching as she forced a smile. For the first time in their entire life, Evie realised, she was seeing jealousy towards Luc flash in Cleo’s eyes.

“It’s darling.” Her cousin said with a smirk, voice rather prim. “And explains why you wore that scarf to bed.”

Luc let out a sigh of relief, grabbing her own slice of buttery toast.

It had been quite the commotion trying to sneak Luc through the Common Room unnoticed. They had waited it out in the classroom for a while, reapplying and lathering out the hair tonic, Luc shivering as she held her head under the freezing Alchemy taps. Wrapping her hair up in a silk scarf Safiya had cleverly sourced, they had crept through the mahogany and stone corridors of the dungeon. The Wives of Slytherin kicked up quiet a fuss as they darted towards their dormitory, but Cleo, curled up by the fireside, had remained in the dark.

Exhausted, Evie had crawled into her own bed as the moon rose in the hazy sky, flickering on the surface of the Black Lake and tapering down to her four-poster.

But she couldn’t rest.

Caught between sleep and wake, glimmers of her fight with Fred kept replaying over and over, a muggle record scratching itself senseless. As her lashes fought to open, sleepy form rising up from the silken coverlet, darkness pulled her under its surface. The scene turned from Freddie, all milk white skin and cinnamon freckles, his eyes burning and voice a misery, to a dance partner she couldn’t fully recognise. His face cloaked in a black mist, as terrible as the curse in her arm, his hand was on the small of her shivering back. Dressed in a gown of starlight, the night cut across the ballroom floor in great sweeps of her skirts. They danced in pools of candlelit dawn, with every spin, the darkness around the mysterious figures face shifted.

 _Fred. Alexei_. Evie couldn’t quite make out; they might have been one. _Alexei. Fred._

A honeyed voice called. “’Morning.”

Caught in the recollection of this haunting dream, trying desperately to recall the true face of her dance-partner, Evie failed to notice that Alexei and his crew had joined them at the Slytherin dining table. Her Lord fell into a bow, taking up the space in front of Evie that had formed as students parted like the red sea.

Evie smiled at him, relief warm in her core. She was glad it wasn’t Alexei that had attacked her, of course she was. “Morning. Here for the best muffins around?”

“Yes, we are.” Rodion had shoved in beside Alexei, reaching out a broad hand to scoop up two muffins from the stacked platter. With his eyes lighting up at the sight, it was easy to assume they had been starving them all on the Durmstrang ship, though everyone knew they had plenty of provisions. “Oh, blueberry. How Hogwarts.”

Turning his hair a deep navy, tinged at the core with blue-ish lavender, Rodion sighed at his muffin and put the other one back on the table. Jonas picked it up, a mournful look playing across his golden face as he ate it in a single bite. “I miss _feuer_ muffins.” He said, blueberry staining his teeth. “These are good, but they’re just- you know.”

Safiya looked annoyed at the attack of their schools muffins, and endeavoured to eat one in protest. It was a great deal a more elegant affair than Jonas and Rodion’s sad munching, but her nose kept wrinkling with every bite. Under her breath, a sniggering Ara muttered. “You hate blueberries.”

“That’s not the _point._ ”

“What are _feuer_ muffins?” Luc turned to Rodion and Jonas, who sat directly at her side.

A piece of the tiny breakfast delicacy fell out of the metamorphmagus’s mouth, catching on his slack jaw as his eyes took in the transformed Luc, his Yule Ball date. Rodion recovered himself quickly, closing his mouth and giving her a little nod, almost a bow. As he dipped his head, his navy hair turned an identical sleek blond. 

“They’re muffins that burn.” Jonas said, still eating and entirely unfazed.

“But its like a fun burn.” Rodion hastened, prying apart another blueberry specimen with his slender, ringed fingers. “We always try and see how many we can eat in one go, its practically a sport.”

_Durmstrang must be dull if they’ve resorted to using muffins for entertainment._

Evie and Luc shared a look across the table. The way that Rodion’s eyes never quite left the perfect Adonis sculpt of Jonas’s profile, there was no doubting it. If Rodion was in fact interested in girls, and wasn’t just caught off guard by Luc’s new-do, then his heart was already taken up by a giant quidditch player who was every part the human Labrador. Luc shook her head a little, like it simply didn’t matter. But in emerald those eyes, Evie caught the echo of their last conversation. _‘No, don’t say anything. Just don’t try and tell me you’re thinking of refusing Alexei, not when you’ve got a Prince on a platter’_

Cleo let out a tinkling laugh, high and sharp.

As soon as Ivon Oblansk had reached the table, looming at Alexei’s back, he had bowed and slipped into the seat in front of Cleo. They seemed to be having some private conversation, her hand working its way into his. Evie tilted her head, trailing her gaze up from their interlocked fingers to Ivon’s knowing gaze. _Merlin, she gets to work fast._

A distant explosion drew her eyes from the Durmstrang boy and off to the sight she had been avoiding all morning. Difficult, as it was directly in front of her. _Almost like they did it on purpose._

Across at the Gryffindor table, their taut backs facing the Slytherin, Fred and George were playing Exploding Snap with their usual gaggle of Fourth Year friends. For well over half an hour, since they had stormed into the Great Hall with disgustingly handsome bed-head, the twins had been laughing away and tearing apart thick slabs of toast. At that very moment, the tower of cards had crumpled around a defeated Ron Weasley, the twins’ younger brother, and left his eyebrows singed. He had yelped, toppling a goblet of pumpkin juice in his jump to avoid further damage, the orange liquid soon mopped up by the undone cuff of his sleeve. He faced Evie, so she could see all of this. _But she wasn’t watching_. It hurt to look at Ron, for there was something in his freckled face that reminded her of a much younger Fred.

But if she had been trying to listen into their conversation, which she hadn’t been, Evie would have known that the twins seemed to be arguing with Ron and his best friend, Harry Potter, about the lack of a letter attached to a tiny black owl. It had swooped into the Great Hall, all hoots and fluff, with nothing attached to its little leg. Ron insisted that this wasn’t Pig’s fault.

“Who d’you keep writing to, eh?” Ron was dabbing some of the spilled pumpkin juice on his eyebrows. Hermione Granger, resting on his shoulder, looked very unimpressed.

“Nose out, Ron, or I’ll burn that for you too.” Fred waved his wand , tapping Ron on his singed brow. Evie didn’t need to fully see his face to know that Fred wasn’t in a good mood that morning. Then again, neither was she. “So…you lot got dates for the Ball yet?”

“Nope.” Ron huffed.

Attempting to fold a whole piece of toast into his gob, George offered his younger brother some sobering advice. “Well, you’d better hurry up mate.”

Alexei was trying to talk to her about something, but Evie was having trouble focusing on the words. Taking Ivon’s lead, he stretched across the Slytherin table to slip his hand into hers. If she focused, his words passing by her at the wrong frequency, she could make out something about the Durmstrang catering. His voice a soft buzzing, he tried to pry back her interest with talk of sweet confectionary and sugary Hungarian treats. But Evie really wasn’t listening, though she smiled and nodded all the same.

Because she was certain, so certain, that Fred had just turned his head a little. The briefest glint of an azure eye, a stab at her cold heart.

His voice was tart, so dry and cruel. In an echo of his twin, Fred nodded to Ron. “Or all the good ones will be gone.”

“Who are you going with, then?” Ron quipped back defensively. His brown eyes flickered to Evie, she was sure of it.

“Angelina.” Fred shrugged his shoulders with an easy roll.

“What!” Ron’s burnt brows rose. “You’ve already asked _her_?”

“Good point.” Fred called, bored and loud. “Oi, Angelina!”

Evie was going to be sick, she was sure of it. Grateful for the lack of food in her once roaring stomach, her hand clamped around Alexei’s wrist so hard that she was prepared to break it. This wasn’t a good idea, as with every shaking clench, pain spasmed up her forearm and rippled under her scar. Evie was seeing spots, but thankfully, her hearing was fine.

“What?” Angelina Johnson asked from a few seats down at the Gryffindor table. Her smile was so sweet as she tucked a dark curl behind her ear.

Motioning a waltz, Fred tugged his lips into a smile as he danced in his seat. “Want to come to the ball with me?”

“All right, then.” Angelina shrugged, biting her soft lip. If she had been expecting this, Evie couldn’t tell, as she immediately turned back to chatting with the rest of the Quidditch squad. _So casually._

“There you go.” Fred winked to the Fourth-Year trio, the devil incarnate. “Piece of cake.”

 _Freddie._ Something broke in the icy chasm of her chest. _He asked her to the Ball._

“Evie.”

Alexei shook her hand, she wanted nothing more than to twist out of his touch. To dissolve into a pit of acid on the floor, easily flushed away down the Alchemy sinks. She had been a fool, a stupid fool. After everything, everything, had she really believed that there was the slightest chance Fred Weasley would have asked her to the Ball? That fleeting daydream of resolution, of proposals and a bashful confession, was long gone.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Her smile faltered, Evie glanced up into Alexei’s bronze eyes. _Really, he was handsome._ If she focused hard enough, she could see it.

“Are you alright?” Alexei looked genuinely worried for her, gently reaching up to touch her forehead with the back of his hand. Drained of life, he found no flush. “Do you need something?”

“I’m fine, I’m totally fine.” Evie held his other hand. _Could you live without a heart? If a boy, a lion, had torn it out - bloody and his._ “But what did you say?”

“I asked if you had thought any more about my offer, but I think you might have, eh, fallen asleep.” She was so terribly rude, Evie couldn’t understand that caring, look that graced Alexei’s handsome features. If their places were reversed, Evie wouldn’t have had his restraint. His beautiful, placid, charm. “I know you took the corsage, but that doesn’t mean you accepted me. But…I would like you too.”

“Oh.” Fred’s head had turned, hot eyes on the slope of her pale neck. Her hand intertwined in Alexei’s, she hoped that he could hear every word. _You broke my heart first._ “Of course, I’ll go with you. I mean, we’ve already practised our waltz.”

Alexei’s eyes were shining. Forcing herself to fall into his bronze enchantment, in his irises, Evie could have sworn she was watching their future dance. Like marionettes on a string, or like her dream. Chandeliers dripped golden light, and one day soon, he would wrap his arms around her once again. “Of course, its destiny.”

“But will you play quidditch with us this weekend?” Ever prepared to ruin what could have been a moment, Rodion butted in. “Sorry, but that’s the real question.”

Jonas poked up his head, nodding in invitation to Evie and the rest of the table. “Yeah, you should all come. Evie, if it helps, you can play whatever position you want.”

“Alright.” Her smile wicked, Evie said a little too loudly. “I’m up for playing Beater.”

At the Gryffindor table, Fred stood up alarmingly quickly. Abandoning the game of Exploding Snap, he was met with his brother’s protests. As he moved, he met Evie’s eyes…and swirling in those deep blues, she saw betrayal.

_Fuck._

In the library, she had never specifically, outright, truly, unequivocally stated that she was already going with Alexei to the Yule Ball. Just because that had been the rumour, Evie had never confirmed it, but in their fighting, she hadn’t been working that hard to convince him any otherwise. It wouldn’t have mattered, in the heat of splintering fury, no word to the contrary would have gotten through his thick skull. He was so defensive, such a Gryffindor. _‘I haven’t accepted anything yet. What’s it to you?’_ It dawned on Evie in a slow trickle, like the icicle beads slipping down around her ears and never hitting the table.

They stared at each other for a moment. His face was twisted, hurt and beautiful. She had seen it before, on a cold Autumn morning so many months ago, when she had let Cleo call him a blood traitor and abandoned him by the Black Lake.

Whatever it was that pulsed there, Gryffindor pride would burn through it. Evie assured herself of that universal truth.

“We’d better get to the Owlery then, George.” Fred turned, his voice a gravelly snap. “Come on.”

The twins stalked out into the Entrance Hall. Evie’s silver eyes followed Fred, her Freddie, until he disappeared behind one of the stone pillars and vanished from her sight. _‘Turn back, look back’._ But he didn’t. If Alexei’s hand wasn’t anchoring her to the table, Evie could have sworn that she went out the door with him, alive in the bloody palm of the Gryffindor who had torn out her frozen heart.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note:
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and the recent spike of engagement with my fic!
> 
> As I cant take credit for what is not my own, I would like to acknowledge that Fred, George and Ron's dialogue from this chapter comes directly from 'Goblet of Fire'. 
> 
> In regards to the cannon-bending, I really needed Evie, Fred and Alexei to all be in the same place for when she accepts the proposal - for the drama! So I combined elements from both the film and books, and of course, added in my own little twist. While I'm trying to stick to the book cannon pretty strictly, it wouldn't be fanfic if I didn't get to have some fun. 
> 
> (Also, yeah, I definitely imagine the whole second scene playing out like one of those Fred Weasley POV tiktoks, don't judge me!)


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